


you've been way  to strong now, for all your life (let me be strong for you)

by Ziamismyotp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, I don't know what else to tag, I don't want to give any spoilers', I rated mature for the hell of it, M/M, angst and problems for everyone hurry!, eh, mentions of domestic violence in the future, whatever, zayn!centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziamismyotp/pseuds/Ziamismyotp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn had to grow up fast and in the process he forgot the importance of friendship and love.</p><p>(Or where Zayn's tired and works to hard and may need more support then he thought, and they all have a bit of family issues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just give warning that I live in the US so I don't know how the school system in the UK work so I'm going by how it works where I'm from, as in Elementary, Middle and High school. The way schools work in the UK confuses me and I don't want to offend anyone by doing it all wrong. Also I’m sure there may be some things here that may be inaccurate but like I said, I don’t live in the UK.
> 
> And I know I didn't give much in the summery but that's because I don't want to spoil anything. I like to surprise people. 
> 
> And another thing, for those of you reading my other story, You can be Loved, eeeek I'm freaking sorry man! I haven't updated in like, two months and that's a long ass time for me but idk I have a bit of writers block for that story. I'm trying though, you've been messaging me on tumblr and everything and I feel terrible. I really am trying :/

 

Zayn was only 7 years old when his father left. They said he would be going away temporarily for job reasons but Zayn never understood why his baba had to leave and why his mum was so upset about it.

 

  
Zayn can remember standing in the front yard of-at the time- their large but old house in Bradford, his baba crouched in front of him in these weird clothes, holding his chubby child hands tightly in his own big, strong man ones and telling Zayn that he's the _"man of the house for a little while"_ and to _"take care of your mother and sisters for me while I'm away"_ and finally, _"make me proud, son."_

 

 

No one expected Zayn to take the words so literal, that the most he’d do is stand by the front door with a bat and a metal pot over his head as he protected his house from imaginary intruders but those words were loaded to Zayn and he embedded them into his mind and made it his job to do just as he was told. He took over. He couldn't do much at the time, only being hardly tall enough to see over the counters and almost helpless but he did the most he could.

 

  
His oldest sister (only 9 at the time) Doniya, was sick since birth. Zayn was too young to comprehend her condition and the seriousness of it, all he knew was that his big sister was getting worse and he _had_ to make her feel better so she can tug on his hair when he wont get out of bed again and eat his greens for him at dinner because greens are _evil_ and they make his tummy hurt. He  _had_ to make her better so baba would be proud.

 

 

His mother worked most of the days and nights at the hotel across town and they couldn't afford a nurse or a babysitter so Zayn took care of her. His mother was never fond of leaving them alone, of leaving Zayn, a helpless seven year old in charge but the neighbors always checked up on them hourly. But for Zayn, he still felt in charge and like he was being the man his baba wanted him to be. He was taking care of his sister, he kept her company when she was lonely, told her wild stories his young, childish imagination could conjure up, got her glasses of water even though he spilled more then half of the cup on the carpet during the travel from the kitchen sink to her bedroom, and he did his very best to care for her when she was pale and to weak to even open her eyes.

 

  
She had heart failure and the doctors couldn’t save her, she died and it took it's toll on everyone. Specially Zayn because he thought he was doing such a good job at taking care of his big sister. All he could think about was how his Baba is going to be so disappointed.

 

  
He had a little sister (3 years old) named Waliyha. She wasn't ill but she was a pest though he still loved her dearly anyway. He took the responsibility of feeding her, changing her until she could properly use the potty and playing 'Barbie and Buzz Lightyear's great adventures' when his mother was home and took her naps and Waliyha was feeling especially rowdy.

 

  
He also had another little sister who was still a harmless infant, Safaa. She mostly stood with the neighbors while his mother worked (which was much to often) but when Safaa was home, he fed her bottles his mother already prepared before she left, held her till she fell asleep, bathed her and played with her when she was to restless for a nap.

 

  
They moved to a smaller house in Wolverhampton after Doniya died because they could no longer afford such a big house now that his father had left. His mother took up another job at a year round resort an hour away, working days and nights to make ends meet.

 

  
So Zayn matured, grew up fast and spent a good majority of his life tending to others. He spent his childhood making bottles and gluing Barbie limbs back together when Waliyha’s careless playing tore the body parts apart. He spent his teenage years skipping last period to pick Waliyha and Safaa up from school, getting them home and feeding them, making sure they do their homework and take their showers and get to bed on time. Then leaving to work the night as a paid employee at a shelter (he use to be a volunteer till the lady who runs the place offered pay after he explained his situation) passing out soup and bread, cleaning, setting up cots and washing clothes. He spent his life strong and responsible and careful and tired and sad.

 

  
He doesn't know what he's going to do with his life. He's going into his last year of high school and as far as he can tell, nothing is going to change. He will still parent his siblings while his mother slaves her life away to provide shelter and food for them. He'll still sleep through his classes (that by some miracle, he's still passing) because the only time he actually sleeps is during his breaks at work or on the rare occasion that his sisters don't need his help. And even then those naps only last 20 minutes. At the most.

 

  
He doesn't see his life changing in anyway this year, or the next or the next. He assumes this is the way it will always be. And though he loves his sisters more than anything in the world, that thought alone depresses him, makes him want to cry.

 

 

When Zayn was 15 he found out the reason why his father never came back and why his mother was so upset the day he left. His father had joined the Airforce because it was a dream of his and even though it meant leaving his family behind for a long length of time for training and in the future, he thought it would be worth it if he could serve and protect them in the process.

 

  
His father died in a training accident because the plane wasn't properly put together.

 

His baba never got to live his dream, is what is most saddening to Zayn.

 

His baba may not be around anymore but the promise to make him proud is still a goal Zayn strives for. He’s come so far, he’d hate to disappoint his baba now.

 


	2. chapter 2

The keys clink together as Zayn tries to aim them for the lock of the front door. He mutters a curse when they slip from his fingers and fall onto the dingy, dirty welcome mat for the third time in the past two minutes. He bends down and grabs them, loosing his footing slightly when he stands up and moves closer to the door. He aims for the lock for the third time but he's to weary to stand straight or get the damn keys in the lock.

 

When he finally manages to get the door opened, he slowly, quietly enters the pitch black house, closing the door behind him carefully. He walks deeper into the silent house, feeling around so he wont crash into anything or step on Safaa's cheap toys, and climbs the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky ones that he has memorized by now. Finally when he makes it down the hallway and to his small room, he closes the door and collapses into it with a heavy sigh, sliding down the wood because his knees are to weak to hold him up anymore. Pulling out his phone from his sweater pocket, he checks the time.

 

5:26 AM

 

He just got back from his 9pm-5am work shift that he's been working every night since he was 14 and he still can never get use to the exhaustion.

 

He sighs again, exhausted, long and sad and closes his eyes for a quick second before opening them again-if he leaves them shut for to long he'll undeniably pass out- and stands up, gripping the doorknob for support. His knees crack and pop painfully and the heels of his feet throb but he masks the pain and rests the back of his head on the door for a few more peaceful seconds.

 

He has to take a cold shower-the hot water runs out far to quickly- and make himself presentable for school, wake the girls up, feed them and have them dressed and ready with their lunches and homework in their bags by 7:30 for the bus. Then he has to eat himself and hopefully squeeze in a few minutes to sit and relax before leaving to school by 8.

 

Then he has to skip last period-it's only study hall though- to pick up the girls from school, feed them their after school snacks, help them with their homework, do his own, make sure they shower and eat dinner and finally head off to bed if they aren't crying to him about missing mum and asking about baba. Then he'll have to leave to work again, starting the never ending cycle all over again.

 

He feels like his life has been a constant drag of doing the same things day by day. He feels like he's lived 71 years not 17.

 

He breaks his eyes away from the grey wall he's been staring blankly at for far to long and gathers his shower necessities before heading off to the bathroom.

 

He almost falls asleep twice under the hot sprays of water pounding into his aching, worn down bones but he manages to rinse the soap off his body and shampoo out of his hair without slipping unconscious and drowning in an overflow of water in the bathtub. Which he doesn't think would be all that tragic. Would actually be a relief for him. But no. His sisters. His _little_ sisters.

 

He brushes his teeth and after he towel dries his skin, he quickly but also carefully shaves the hair off his jaw because the length has long surpassed simply stubble. He then pulls on a plain white v-neck that isn't to dirty and black sweatpants that slip low on his hips that are protruding because he's hardly had time to eat this past week and it's becoming noticeable.

 

He eyes the exposed ink along his arms, the only thing he's done in these past years that have bought him happiness. He's pretty damn proud of the ink too and he plans on getting more sometime soon-he only manages to pay for these things through cleaning the tattoo shop and polishing the tools without pay, plus it probably helps that Ed is awfully fond of him for whatever reason.

 

When he's done he grabs his dull grey colored beanie from the hook on the door, pulls it over his head to cover his messy, thick black hair that he seriously needs to trim and leaves the bathroom to wake his sisters up from their deep sleep. Must be nice to actually sleep at night, Zayn thinks a bit resentfully. He use to sleep all the time, now he can't even remember what it's like.  
  


"Wali, it's time to wake up." He speaks quietly, shaking his sister's shoulder gently, regretfully. He hates this part of the day, waking his sisters up from their peaceful slumber. He always imagines how much he hates to be woken up whenever he gets a chance to squeeze in some z's and always feels guilty watching his sisters drag themselves out of bed.

 

"5 more minutes, bubba." Waliyha mumbles, her face buried in her arms and Zayn smiles sadly. The girls must be tired, they were up an extra hour-successfully making him late for work- crying because mum has hardly been home this whole week and they "miss her so much." Zayn only held them tightly and let them cry, not letting their tears influence his own because he likes to appear strong for his sisters. He knows how much they miss mum because he feels the same and he knows how much they wish they had a baba because he does too.

 

He tries to make up for it though, do everything in his power to be the man of the house, be the provider and be a father-ish- figure for his sisters but he knows it's not the same and he doesn't feel to bad when they say that they wish they had a baba to tuck them in at night. Even though he puts a hell of a lot of effort and time into making sure their blankets are properly tucked under their bodies and they both get a nice, sloppy wet kiss on the forehead.

 

"I'm sorry, love but if I give you more time then we'll both be late for school." He says and Waliyha sighs but throws her arms from over her face and sits up. "I'm ganna go wake up Saf and make breakfast. Get dressed." He instructs and stands up from where he was sitting on Waliyha's bed.

 

"Zayn" She whispers, grabbing hold of Zayn's wrist before he could make it to far. He looks down at his sister, waiting for her to continue. "I love you, you know that right?" Zayn smiles and nods his head, warmth spreading across his chest at the sudden confession. Waliyha's not very affectionate so when she hugs you or says she loves you then it's an event. "So when I say you look like utter crap, I mean it in the most caring way." She finishes, smirking at him and Zayn pulls his wrist from her hold. _And there it is_ , He thinks.

 

"And when I say you're a twat, I mean it in the most caring way." He retorts and tugs on a strain of her long, black hair.

 

"That's a quarter in the swear jar."

 

"We don't own a swear jar." Zayn points out.

 

"Well, I'm ganna make one." She informs and Zayn laughs in response before shaking his head and heading for the door.

 

"Then you owe about 20 pounds." He says, "From yesterday alone." She sticks her tongue out at him before he's out the door.

 

He enters Safaa's own room across the hall and sits on the edge of her bed. "Safaa, babe, time to get up." He says softly and tangles his fingers with his youngest sisters small ones and kisses the roof of her hand. A small smile forms on her lips at the action and Zayn still finds it odd that it's this easy to wake her up.

 

"Morning, bubba." She says, her eyelids opening and exposing bright hazel eyes, ones much like his own but full of a lot more life.

 

"Morning, Saf. Get dressed, yeah? I'm going to make breakfast." He tells her. Safaa sits up, crossing her legs under the blanket and staring at him carefully.

 

"You should stay home today, bubba. You look awfully tired." She mentions, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. Zayn sighs before standing up and walking towards the door.

 

"Feel awfully tired." He admits, picking at the purple chipping paint by the door. "But you know I can't do that. Specially since it's only the first week back at school."

 

And then he walks out, not glancing back because Safaa probably carries a worried expression that he doesn't want to see. His sister should not be worrying about him. He should be worrying about her.

 

He doesn't make a big breakfast, only waffles and sausage then sees them off to the bus stop, kissing them both on the forehead with promise to pick them up after school.

 

"Honestly, I'm 12, Zayn. I can walk me and Saf home by myself." Waliyha had insisted. "And stop kissing me in public." she had complained as she wiped her forehead with her sleeve but there's a smile playing at her lips and Zayn planted another one just to bug her.

 

He doesn't get those extra few minutes to rest due to the amount of time it took for Waliyha to do her hair-she's almost as bad as him- and he has to hurry to the public bus down the street so he doesn't miss it.

 

When the bus arrives at school he pulls his black backpack straps more securely onto his shoulders and climbs off. He sighs, looking at the school and crosses the street.

 

See, Zayn does this thing in school called 'blending in'. It's where you go with the crowd, where you don't draw attention to yourself by playing sports or being the class clown or dressing differently or _speaking_. Zayn prefers it that way too because attention makes him uncomfortable. He's use to watching from the background, watching others shine in the spotlight and be showered with love and compliments. That's just not for him. He'll rather give the attention to someone else then be bombarded with it himself. It's probably because he's done that his whole life with his sisters.

 

Blending in helps him go unnoticed. He doesn't want friends, doesn't need them, doesn't have time for them. He doesn't have time to worry about other people.

 

So Zayn does what he did ever since primary, he ducks his head and maneuvers his way around everyone. He does what he's been doing this past week of school, avoid looking anyone in the eye, goes to his locker to grab whatever books he needs and heads to his first period class straight away. He sits in the corner, the second to last seat in the back and drops his head into his forearms, ready to get back some of that sleep he missed last night.

 

But that's not how this first period goes.

 

There's a new student from Ireland, Niall. The teacher introduces the blonde boy in front of the class and Zayn can just tell he's going to be popular. The boy is built, not crazy muscular but he has broad shoulders and decent sized biceps and he's actually really good looking with those bright blue eyes and infectious smile. Plus he's _Irish_ , come on, that's just not fair.

 

The boy-Niall is wearing a white cut off tank and he has a big white grin on his face and Zayn looks around to find everyone staring at him like he's some new shiny toy. He knows immediately what crowd this boy will be seen with, the football team. He rolls his eyes and drops his head into his arms again, no longer finding any interest in this anymore.

 

"You can take a seat right back there, Mr. Horan." Zayn hears Miss. Mackey say and there's whispers coming from around the room. Zayn guesses it's probably about where the new kid is sitting but as said before, he doesn't care.

 

The teacher begins speaking again, talking about what they'll be learning next week but Zayn tunes it out. He's halfway asleep when there's a tapping on his shoulder. He would ignore it too if he was a jerk but no, Zayn's a nice person and he can't just deliberately _ignore_ someone. So he turns around and finds that it's the new kid tapping his shoulder.

 

"Hiya, 'm Niall." He introduces, voice hushed but friendly as he extends a hand. Zayn eyes the hand warily because he's not suppose to make friends but then he thinks, _what's the harm_ and shakes the Irish boys hand. It's not like shaking hands means they have to become best friends or will tie them together for all of eternity or something. Unless that's how it goes in Ireland.

 

"So I've heard, 'm Zayn." He returns and pulls his hand away. He's about to turn back around, get back to taking his nap but Niall's speaking again, a wide grin on his lips and obviously not noticing Zayn's discomfort or irritation.

 

"Zayn." He repeats. "Cool name, mate." He compliments and Zayn shifts awkwardly. His name really isn't _cool_.

 

"Thanks." He mumbles, eyes focused on the carvings on Niall's desk.

 

"So, Zayn, 'm thinking of joinin' the footy team, wha'cha think? They any good?" Niall asks and Zayn internally throws up a fist and screams, _I Knew it_ before shrugging.

 

"I dunno, haven't been to any games." He admits, looking around the room to notice a few students staring at them as if they can't believe Zayn's speaking, or better, that _Niall_ is speaking to _Zayn_. Maybe both but he can't tell, all he can tell is that they are drawing attention. And that's bad.

 

Niall opens his mouth to respond, oblivious to the attention they're drawing but then the teacher is warning them to pay attention or they can leave to the office and Zayn sighs in relief and takes this opportunity to turn around in his seat and face the front of the class. He thinks that's the end of that. That Niall wont be speaking to him again. He's wrong.

 

Niall is in his third period class and has lunch with him. Now normally Zayn eats his lunch alone outside, sitting in the grass, leaning against the bark of a big tree and eating silently, sometimes reading a good book but overal, avoiding the jocks and that Liam Payne that always looks at him. That confuses him too because Liam Payne is the Jock of Jocks, the most popular and good-looking in school and yet, Zayn always catches him staring shamelessly, not even bothering to look away when they make eye contact. But that's a whole other subject.

 

Niall sits with him, is the point. All bright, toothy smiles and chomping down a greasy slice of pizza covered with meatballs. Zayn freezes, the food he was chewing momentarily forgotten but Niall remains oblivious to how uncomfortable he really is and how _wrong_ this is. Niall's throwing him off.

 

"Zayn, mate!" Niall greets all shining sun and bright stars and Zayn tenses at how loud he is. "So, I made a friend, tis lad with big hair and a crazy butterfly tat on his tummy. Said he's called Harry. Ever heard of 'im?" Niall asks, crossing his legs and shifting closer so his back can rest against the trunk of the tree too. It's far to close for comfort.

 

"Harry?" Zayn repeats, drawing up a blank for a few long beats before it hits him. Harry's that hipster kid who works at that bakery near the school and doesn't know how to button his shirts. "Oi, yeah, I've seen him 'round." He answers. So now Niall-the soon to be jock, Zayn's sure of it- has made friends with a hipster junky and a nobody-if you can count Zayn as a friend, which he doesn't- who's next? Someone from the drama class or a nerd from the chest team? Niall's already fucking with the social groups-or nonsocial group in Zayn's case- and it's only his first day.

 

"Yeah, he's really cool. Oi! Look! There he is!" Niall shouts excitedly. "Harry!" Niall calls and waves at Harry to come over. Harry smiles and begins to walk over, his coffee and a brown bag in hand but then his eyes meet Zayn's and his steps falter a bit. Okay, Zayn's a little offended. But it's whatever because he doesn't even want Harry to come over here. He doesn't even want Niall over here, for fucks sake.

 

"Hey, Niall!" Harry greets and drop himself onto the grass with a thump. "Hello, Zayn." He greets, less enthusiastic but equally friendly and Zayn's pretty shocked he knows his name.

 

"Hello, Harry." He returns dully, bringing his slice of pizza to his mouth and chewing nervously. People. Social situations. Attention. Possible friends. Bad.

 

The rest of lunch goes on without anymore surprise guest which is better then okay and it's not as bad as Zayn expected. No more attention is drawn on him, more on Niall who talks the whole time about Ireland and the stress of moving and attending a new school and then he goes on about footy tryouts tomorrow after school and how they should both go for moral support. Zayn instantly denies, makes up some excuse not to go instead of the honest truth, which is he's busy taking care of his sisters and he doesn't want to be friends. But Harry on the other hand accepts the invitation instantly, says he's free and they should get some burgers after. Then Niall throws an arm around Harry's shoulders and responds with, "You're my kind of guy, Styles." and Zayn's mixed between feeling content with watching from the background and feeling like a third wheel to a blossoming friendship.

 

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch, gym was probably the highlight. They were outside and he didn't play, lied that he forgot his clothes because he didn't want to play football and sat in the grass. Now, most would say watching someone is creepy and call it stalking but he calls it observing from a distance. Most would also say, that's the same thing. But Zayn can't help it if his eyes are drawn to the way Liam Payne moves down the field. He gets this wild, determined look in his eyes and he gets all flushed and sweaty and excited and his muscles flex when he pulls off his shirt and it's all just very intriguing, okay?

 

But then he falls asleep against a tree and misses the whole game and when class is over he doesn't go back inside, instead leaves immediately with his bag on his shoulder because next period is the last period and he has to pick up his sisters from school.

 

So Zayn picks them up, asks them how school was and listens to them go into detail about projects and boys and best friends while they walk home.

 

He feeds them sandwiches and crisps and makes sure they do whatever homework they have while he does his own at the same time. They watch America's next top model because it's Zayn's guilty pleasure and argue about who's photo this week was better and after he makes them dinner.

 

Zayn's mum calls when the girls are taking their showers, says she has tomorrow off and will be home in the morning to get the girls ready for school. Zayn exhales in relief because that means when he gets home from his night shift he'll get at least an hour of sleep before he has to wake up to dress and leave for school.

 

He decides not to tell the girls so mum can surprise them in the morning and sends them off to bed with a promise of being the one to wake them up in the morning, just so they wont think differently.

 

Then he changes into black jeans and a T-shirt with the shelters logo on it, grabs his midnight snacks, shuts and locks all the windows and sets up the house alarm before locking the front door and catching a bus to the shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you go, let me know what you guys think! Comments and Kudos are wonderful :)


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow day so I thought, hey why not update, am I right?
> 
> The next update will most likely come during the weekend sometime but I can't guarantee anything because I have to babysit all weekend. But i'll definitely try!
> 
> Also I want to say a huge fat thank you to everyone who left kudos and/or comments and to everyone who read! I wasn't expecting this kind of response and I can't say I'm disappointed. I'm really anxious but excited to write the rest of this because i've got all these ideas and the ending and everything in the middle, i just really hope I can piece it all together and not disappoint anyone in the process.
> 
> But okay, i'm done rambling, go on and read now if you'd like.

When Zayn's shift ends at 5 and he finally arrives home half an hour later after almost missing the early morning bus, he leaves the front door unchained so his mother can get in without struggle and drags himself to his room, dropping face first into his lumpy, springy mattress. He supposes it’s about time that he got a new mattress but then he thinks about the way Waliyha always wakes up with a sore neck and Safaa complains about her back during breakfast and he decides if any mattresses are being purchased it’s only right that they go to his sisters instead of him. He hardly sleeps anyway.

 

  
He falls asleep like that in seconds, springs digging into his cheeks and hipbones. He wakes not to much later, though and checks the time on his old, cracked phone.

  
6:03 am

  
He groans and looks around his dull room, his old and new paintings and sketches lining the chipping walls and providing him a small amount of sanity in this room. The only other thing that makes these suffocating four walls more bearable to be surrounded by is the Ipod he bought himself-regrettably, he could have used that money for something more important, he’s so selfish sometimes- sitting on top of his old oak desk. It provides him with various sorts of music when he's close to breaking. It's the only thing that keeps him grounded, keeps him sane except for when he’s coating a canvas with strokes of paint. But he doesn’t have much time to do that these days.

 

  
It's still dark outside when Zayn glances out the window but he predicts the sun will be rising soon enough so he kicks off his ratty shoes, peals off his work pants with weak, sore muscles and buries under the covers. It's somewhat pleasant and cozy under his thin blankets and he lays there curled into a ball, eyes screwed shut and waiting to fall asleep. Time passes though and he becomes irritated, desperate, begging inwardly for sleep to take over again but it wont and he doesn't understand why. You'd think he'd pass out, maybe not even wake up when his alarm rings in his ears but apparently that's not what is planned. He's wide awake and so damn tired. He's probably yawned ten times in the last minute and his muscles scream with the need to finally rest.

 

  
But he can’t and he feels so drained and upset and so, so exhausted and the insomnia is strong and tears leak from his eyes from sheer frustration. When that alarm goes off an hour later, he uncurls from his stiff ball of tight limbs, joints creaking and popping painfully from the change of position, wipes his eyes and climbs out of bed, almost collapsing to the floor from how weak his legs really are. It feels as if he doesn’t have enough grease in his joints and they scream when he so much as bends the slightest. He's not even sure how he even manages to get to the bathroom with the lack of energy he has but there he is, sitting in the tub, lukewarm water pouring over his head, mixing with silent tears and the toothpaste from brushing his teeth lazily.

 

  
He’s so drained, mentally and physically. His body feels a thousand pounds heavy yet inside he feels empty, feels dead. He’s still so young, he shouldn’t feel so old and hopeless already. It’s just hard living everyday for everyone else and not himself, it’s fucking hard going on when you want to give up.

 

  
When he gets out of the tub he throws on a pair of loose hanging tattered jeans that actually fit his thin legs and a black hoodie over a t shirt. Yes, he's not wearing sweats today but he still pulls on that old grey beanie he wears everyday and slips on those ratty grey converse with the dirt stains and torn material. He really should get a new pair but he has more important things to spend money on, like bills and food and school supplies for the girls. Plus, he likes the worn out look of them. New is bad, makes him feel selfish.

 

  
When he steps one foot out of the bathroom Waliyha's quick to run past him, shouting something along the lines of, “About time, princess!” and slamming the bathroom door shut behind her and almost snapping off Zayn's neck in the process. But unfortunately, he lives and heads to the kitchen to hopefully get a decent amount of food in his body. He needs it desperately.

 

  
"G'morning honey, I made pancakes but those savages ate most of um. I managed to save you one, though." His mother calls, emerging from the kitchen and almost colliding with him.

 

  
"Sounds lovely, thanks mum." He forces a smile and kisses her forehead before walking inside of the kitchen and grabbing the plate with one average sized pancake in the center of it. He pours maple syrup onto the food and eats it, enjoying every bite because it's the only one he's got and there isn't any other food in the house. He really needs to go food shopping. He can't let the girls starve.

 

  
His mother watches him, nibbling her bottom lip with a look of concentration and hesitation in her features and Zayn thinks he knows what she's going to say but he waits anyway, lets her sort out what she wants to say in her head before saying it aloud. But then she frowns and shakes her head and Zayn figures she decided not to ask, not to go there. Good.

 

  
"You're coming straight home after school?" His mother asks, pushing her weight away from where it's resting on the counter and gliding across the small kitchen to gather the dishes she used to cook.

 

  
"Don't I always?" He responds, shrugging his shoulders and leaning his stomach into the counter, elbows planted on the counter top and holding the plate in his hands.

 

  
"Well, yes but you don't want to hang out with any of your friends?" She asks, scooping up the dishes and dropping them in the sink.

 

  
"Mum-" Zayn warns, places the empty plate on the counter and crossing his arms defensively.

 

  
"I mean, I will be home to watch the girls until my shift tonight so I just thought you'd want to go with some mates to see a movie or eat something, you need to eat, love, you're disappearing right before my eyes." his mum jokes, trying to lighten the mood while scrubbing at non existent stains on already clean dishes after running out of dirty dishes to distract herself with.

 

  
"Mum I can't do that. I have to come home to take care of the girls so you can sleep before you head back to work." Zayn reasons. He doesn't want his mother going back to work at the resort for the next week straight, tired. Yes, she sleeps in her own employee room during the night but those rooms are small and stuffy and nothing like home. Or that's what she told him.

 

  
"Zayn." She snaps suddenly, slamming the thick plate onto the counter. "You are my child, I am your mother, stop worrying about me. It's my job to take care of my children, let me take care of my children, please." She demands, turning around and looking at Zayn, not angrily but desperate and Zayn nods his head slowly, a little caught off guard and a bit frightened. But really, he understands. He knows his mother feels guilty for working so much, for never being home and leaving the girls in Zayn's hands though he makes a point to never complain. He knows taking care of the girls today might make her feel a little better. But he just wants to do the right thing.

 

  
"Sorry for snapping, honey, I just worry about you, s’all." She apologizes, drying her hands on her pants. Zayn tries to say something, assure her that she does not need to worry about him but she cups his cheeks, forces him to look her in the eye and shakes her head.

 

  
"No, don't say anything. You grew up so quickly, love and I feel awful everyday leaving you here to take care of your sisters and work during the nights. You must be exhausted." His mother says, rubbing her thumbs along the purple dips under his eyes, a pained look edged into her features. "I don't want to see you home after school today, not until later on. Have fun, hang out with your friends. Be a kid, okay?" Zayn nods his head defeated, deciding arguing will only do more harm then good because his mother already looks close to tears, looks so regretful and sorry and he doesn't want her to feel even worse.

 

  
"You're brilliant, you do all you can for us and I respect you and I love you for that." He says instead, covering and squeezing his mother's hand that still rest on his cheek.

 

  
"I love you too. Now, off to school before your late." She sniffs and Zayn gets the hint, sappy time is over. He kisses her cheek before grabbing his backpack and heading out the door, wondering what he will do to keep himself busy after school today.

 

  
He doesn't have any friends.

 

~

 

Zayn's sitting at the back table in his AP Literature class, his cheek resting in his hands and eyes falling close every few seconds. He can feel himself slipping, he knows his face will make impact with the table top any moment now but he's to tired to care. His rescue though, is a gentle nudge stirring him awake. He looks to the person sitting next to him, a very bored looking but very much awake, Niall.

 

  
"You alright, mate?"

 

  
"Yeah, 'm fine. Just a bit tired, is all." He admits, yawning as if on cue and stretching his aching arms behind his head.

 

  
"Yeah, me too, bro." Niall says, scratching the top of his head. "So, are ya comin' to the try outs today? Could use the support."

 

  
"I don't think so, Niall. I've got a bit of a busy schedule today and-" But he stops short, his mothers words ringing in his head. _"I don't want to see you home after school today, not until later on. Have fun, hang out with your friends. Be a kid, okay?"_   He can't go home.

 

  
He was just planning on maybe taking a walk in a park, sit by that big tree near the lake and sketch for a bit or maybe finally go food shopping and tell his mother he went with a few friends-though he doubts she'd believe that- but maybe he should go to this thing. He doesn't want to, he would much rather be home making sure Safaa works on her spelling words and Waliyha practices her multiplication but he has no choice but to stay out of his house for a few hours.

 

  
So he sighs and smiles weakly before giving in, "Yeah... yeah, I'll go” and Niall's expression brightens.

 

  
"Wicked! Me and Harry are meeting by the bleachers after school! Meet us there?” He asks, sounding hopeful and it throws him off that Niall actually _wants_ him there.

 

  
“Sure.” He agrees, trying to force enthusiasm but it’s weak and he just wants to close his eyes and sleep away reality. But Niall continues to ramble and Zayn doesn’t see any chances of squeezing in a quick kip anytime soon so he digs through his bag, pulling out his markers and a notepad as Niall tells him about this girl in his gym class who never wears a bra and opens to a fresh page. It’s probably rude to draw while someone is talking to you but it’s not like he’s the one who initiated the conversation and it’s not like he wants to continue the conversation so if he’s going to have his ear chatted off then he might as well be enjoying himself in the during.

 

  
But hey, it’s not like Zayn _doesn’t_ like Niall, he’s actually rather intrigued by the boy and his constant cheer but it’s just easier if he comes across as cold and a little rude so then maybe Niall will back away and Zayn can be alone again. It’s better that way.

 

  
“Mate, tha’s sick! Can you draw me somethin’?” Niall asks, eyes peering down at the doodle Zayn just concocted with his colorful sharpies and it’s nothing really, just a cartoon alien with a giant head fighting a dinosaur with a banana gun on an asteroid but Niall looks as if his eyes just landed on a Picasso.

 

  
“Uh thanks, you can just have this if you want.” He offers, tearing the page from his notebook and signing the bottom left corner. He wont miss the piece, it’s just a random doodle, he’s no way attached to it like he is his finer work at his house. Now that would be a whole different situation. This is just a doodle, those are special and no one is allowed to see or have those ever.

 

  
“Wicked.” Niall breathes, taking the sheet of paper and holding in out in front of him, eyes skimming the page and admiring the stars and colors. “Thanks! ’s cool as hell.” He says, eyes shinning and grinning wide. Zayn shifts in his seat and drops his eyes onto the hardwood of the table, cheeks flushing lightly at the compliment.

 

  
“Welcome.” He mumbles and after that Niall doesn’t chat his ear off anymore, successfully distracted with trying to create his own cartoon and Zayn’s face reunites with the table in minutes.

~

He seriously considers backing out of his promise to attend the try outs because really, who would notice or care? Surely Niall and Harry wouldn’t mind, they’d get over it quick enough because it’s not like Zayn’s the bloody queen or anything important or relevant. And if they don’t get over it, well, he doesn’t even care. No. He doesn’t. Really.

 

  
But then he’s closing his locker at the end of the day, spinning around to head for the main doors and Harry appears beside him. “Leaving? Niall said you were going to the try outs?” Harry’s deep, gravely voice has always surprised Zayn, along with his height and that stupid dimple on his cheek. The kid is hardly even Zayn’s age yet he has managed to surpass him in height and almost everything puberty related and it’s just ridiculous.

 

  
“Oi, uh, yeah, yeah I was just heading over there now.” He lies and Harry obviously doesn’t buy into it but he doesn’t say anything as they head towards the gym doors to get the back of the school where the try outs take place on the field.

 

  
The walk is awkward, or it is for Zayn at least, he doesn’t know what to say, what to do but Harry looks calm and peaceful, smiling almost as bright as Niall, dimples pronounced and waving to every person who so much as glances at him. It’s sweet but also a bit irritating because everyone lights up when Harry waves at them, the girls swoon and the guys pat him on the shoulder or ruffle his hair and it’s not fair because Harry wears bandannas and he’s a junkie and Zayn has never touched anything but a fag in his life. Why does Harry possess all this charm and all Zayn does is dull the room down.

 

  
“Niall’s cool, yeah?” Harry says as they push the gym exit doors open.

 

  
Zayn furrows his eyebrows at the small talk but goes along anyway if that means it’ll get rid of the tension. “Yeah.” He agrees.

 

  
“I was surprised to see you two together yesterday.” _Yeah because I’m an antisocial freak?  
_

 

  
A frown tugs at Zayn’s lips and he can’t help but sound defensive when he asks, “Yeah?”

 

  
Harry looks down at him and back up, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, just, Niall is all cheery, happy and smiles and you’re…” He pauses, biting his lip and glancing at Zayn looking a bit worried as if he’s afraid he might offend him.

 

  
“Not?” Zayn mumbles, down casting his eyes and stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. Maybe it’s not to late to turn around and go home. He’ll rather deal with his mum upset about him coming home so early then this.

 

  
“Well, yeah. Sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it?” Harry apologizes, worry evident in his eyes and the frown on his lips but Zayn only shrugs again and keeps his eyes glued to the grass bellow him as they get closer to the field.

 

  
Finally reaching the steal bleachers, Zayn looks around but doesn’t find Niall anywhere in sight. He sighs, a bit miffed that he’s here for Niall and said-boy isn’t even here himself and leans against the bleachers, digging into his sweater pocket and pulling out a pack of Marlboros and a lighter.

 

_Those things will kill you, love,_ his mother always tells him with worry, _Is that so bad?_ he always thinks bitterly.

 

  
Harry stands next to him and Zayn offers him a cigarette which he denies because _that shit kills you, man_. And Zayn rolls his eyes with force and lights his fag, taking a deep inhale and relaxing into the nicotine that stops the nervous shaking of his hands.

 

  
They stand there, Harry piping up occasionally about inane shit that he finds funny or worth noticing and Zayn’s seconds away from stomping out his cigarette and going home until there’s a throat being cleared to the side of him and he turns to find a tall, broad shouldered jock smiling down shyly at him. His hands clam up immediately and he glances at Harry as if he’ll help but he only wiggles his eyebrows and winks, fucking _winks_ at him as if he knows something Zayn doesn’t.

 

  
“Hey, Zayn right?” Liam asks and Zayn’s breathing hitches when the warm, smooth voice breaches his ears. He’s heard Liam talk before but from a distance and never directed towards him, he has a nice voice and he’s never fancied his name coming from someone’s mouth as much as he does right now.

 

  
Zayn shuffles from one foot to the other from nerves and blows his smoke out from the corner of his lips so it wont blow directly in Liam’s face because that would be really douche-y of him, right?

 

  
“Uh, yeah. Liam?” He asks though he’s already pretty damn positive who this guy is, the whole town knows Liam Payne, he’d have to live under a rock if he didn’t.

 

  
“Yeah.” Liam’s grin widens, pushing up his cheeks and crinkling his eyes and the air almost leaves Zayn’s body because wow, his smile is unreal. Zayn bites back his own smile, afraid of how it might look in comparison.

 

  
“Yeah.” Zayn repeats for lack of anything else to say. He takes another hit of the cigarette because hell, he needs it and keeps eye contact with Liam though it’s hard as hell to do.

 

  
Liam lets out a breathy chuckle and though Zayn doesn’t understand what he’s laughing at, he still enjoys the sound, imagines wrapping himself up in a blanket and listening to it on repeat, sending him straight into a state of contentment.

 

  
“Hey, Liam!” Harry suddenly pipes, grinning ear to ear and scooting closer to the two of them.

 

  
“Hi, Harry. Louis isn’t here if you’re looking for him, he left with Grimmy a few minutes ago.” Liam responds and Zayn lets out a breathe he hadn’t known he was holding now that eye contact has been broken. He fidgets in the background, rubbing his palm against his thigh and taking longer drags of his cigarette. It’s just, _Liam_ is here, talking to him and he’s already overwhelmed because of Niall and Harry but now Liam’s acknowledging his existence as well and it’s just not right. He’s suppose to be blending in, suppose to be just another body in the crowd. He’s not cut out for this, why are they noticing to him?

 

  
“Nah, me and Lou are meeting up later. Me and Zayn are just here to try out.” Harry lies easily and Zayn flushes and nearly chokes on his next inhale of his cigarette when Liam looks at him incredulously but Zayn’s been smoking for years so he manages to hold it and not cough up a storm.

 

  
“You’re here to try out?” Liam asks, sounding as surprised as he looks and Zayn would be a offended if he wasn’t busy trying to control his breathing so he doesn’t die on the spot from lack of oxygen flow. Once his breathing has fully regulated he remembers he’s suppose to be answering a question, Liam’s question and stutters, “Uh… um no, I uh, I just…”

 

  
“He’s just here for moral support!” Niall cuts in, bumping into Zayn’s side and throwing his arm around his bony shoulders. Zayn sighs in relief, thankful for the rescue and looks at Niall grinning at Liam.

 

  
“Oi, okay.” Liam says, eyes flickering between them. “Who are you?” He asks, head tilting slightly in curiosity and it really shouldn’t be adorable but it kind of is.

 

  
“Oi, right, I’m Irish.” Niall introduces, extending his free hand towards Liam. “But they call me Niall.” Liam takes the hand and shakes it, another smile forming on his lips and Zayn has to fight back his own threatening smile because Niall is silly and he just radiates positivity.

 

  
“I’m Liam.”

 

  
“So I’ve heard. Pretty famous 'round here, you are. Have all the lasses are fallin' all over you.” Niall teases causing Liam to flush lightly.

 

"Nah, 'm just good at what I do." 

 

"So modest, you are." Harry adds, slapping Liam's back and glancing at Zayn. " 's a great trait, mate."

 

  
Liam opens his mouth to respond but then the coach is shouting for all student trying out for the football team to line up and for the students already on the team-which Liam is- to come back to the field.

 

  
“Well that’s our cue.” Niall announces, removing his arm from Zayn’s shoulders and replacing it with Liam’s own. Liam grins at him-because everyone takes kindly to Niall apparently- before they turn around and head towards the field. Zayn sighs feeling disappointed though he should have expected Liam to completely forget his existence after Niall showed up. Niall sort of draws you in with his smile and accent and hair. Zayn doesn’t draw people in, he pushes them away.

 

  
He pulls out another cigarette, placing it in his mouth and lighting up before looking back up to find Liam glancing at him over his shoulder, smiling shyly. Zayn’s heart skips a beat or a few and he returns the smile with the best of his ability, the edges tight and uncertain because why is Liam smiling at him? Then he mouths  _"See you"_ and Zayn has to replay the imagine in his mind multiple times to be sure that is what Liam had actually said and that it was directed to him.

 

Harry grabs him by the elbow though, forcing his attention to shift to the taller lad and he suggest they sit on the bleachers now with a hint of a smirk along his lips. When he looks back Liam is on the field standing next to his coach and Zayn’s once again forgotten. Just how it’s suppose to be.

 

But he can't help wondering what just happened, what that even meant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was that? Nothing to bad, eh? (lol i've never said 'eh' before, I say 'aye' but whatever) Idk just let me know what you thought! :)


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I wasn't even going to update because I have the worst headache and I don't even want to look at my screen but I promised so blah, here you go.
> 
> But yeah, man, things are just getting interesting, okay? There's ish coming in future chapters and oh man I hope you don't hate me because I know none of you signed up for this shit. But don't worry, it's nothing real bad. Just... other "problems" and ish.

Sometimes Zayn feels resentful of his mother and sisters. Resentful because instead of being a _teenager_ he is forced the role of a _parent_. He feels resentful because he has spent his whole life catering to others, caring and protecting and giving. He looks out for everyone but there isn’t a single person to return the favor.

 

 

He knows it’s selfish and wrong, to long for freedom, to escape his house and these overwhelming responsibilities but sometimes during school, when he doesn’t sleep or when he has the actual time to even _think_ , he rests his head in his palm and imagines how life would be if he was to move so far _far_ away and live out his own dreams, do what he wants and be who he wants. Or how life would be if his father was still alive. But he doesn’t think about that often because it’s to painful and it feels wrong. His baba wanted him to take his place as the provider, as the man, how would he feel if he knew Zayn didn’t _want_ to be anymore? He’d be disappointed.

 

 

Sometimes Zayn questions his strength before he finally crumbles, his will before he completely gives up, his life before it inevitably ends. He wants to escape, to leave, sometimes he wants to die but he’s trapped here by his responsibilities to care for his sisters and help keep the roof over their heads because his mother can’t do it on her own. And he can’t make her do it on her own, he can’t be anymore selfish then he already is.

 

He's trapped, like being binded by shackles and locked into a room without a key or anyway of escaping. And he's drowning. Drowning like there's an anchor chained to his ankles and wrists and it's pulling him further and further down, deeper into the ocean and no matter how hard he shruggles he just can't slip out, can't resurface. And it's terrifying.

 

 

But he has no options, no choices, no say. This is what he has to do, the life he _has_ to live and sometimes it just freaking _sucks_.

 

 

It’s Saturday and he just tucked the girls into bed, he’s shimmying into a pair of ratty old sweatpants and his work shirt, shrugging on a fading leather jacket before grabbing his house keys, double checking the windows to be sure they’re all locked and setting up the house alarm. He steps into the cool night air and sighs heavily, not at all ready for another night shift.

 

 

He just wants the cycle to stop, at least pause. He wants the world to freeze around him so he can find the most comfortable, plush bed in town and sleep till his bones don’t scream, his eyelids don’t droop, his don’t shoulders hunch, his body doesn’t feel so heavy and he is finally well rested. He’s dying to know how that feels.

 

 

The bus ride is a little longer then usual tonight because of the replacement driver taking different routes and Zayn drifts on and off in his seat, his face pressing to the window in an unattractive way until the bus comes to a halt and jolts him awake. He rubs his eyes, fights the urge to close them again and makes his departure from the bus with dragging feet and slumped shoulders.

 

 

Bonnie, a sweet middle aged women with early graying hair and age in her eyes, greets him from the front desk with a plate of freshly baked cookies in her hands that makes his mouth water and his stomach growl shamefully loud.

 

 

“Bonnie, looking as lovely as ever I see.” He says easily, winking and resting against the counter as the smell of desert invades his nose.

 

 

“Oi, stop the flattery and batting those ridiculously long eyelashes. You just want me for the cookies.” She smirks, rolling her eyes.

 

 

“Why I would never.” He mocks offense, using a phony accent and slapping a hand to his chest and Bonnie laughs, swatting at his shoulder. Bonnie is the only person he would ever consider somewhat of a friend. Or the closest thing to a friend he has and it’s only because she’s older and he doesn’t need to worry about her-though sometimes he does because she recently got divorced and she’s been a little out of it lately- plus, she sweet, motherly when he needs it and she doesn’t rat on him when he sneaks off to the utility closet on occasion to have a quick kip like Megan does.

 

 

“Take some cookies, love. They’re fresh from the kitchen.” She extends the plate and smiles sweetly at him when he hesitates. “Take, you’re skin and bones and knowing you, you probably didn’t even bring food for your break.”

 

 

Zayn rubs his neck sheepishly and returns the smile she flashes him though it’s tight and forced. He nods though, grateful and plucks an oatmeal raisin and a chocolate chip from the oddly designed dish. “Thank you, Bon Bon.”

 

 

Bonnie giggles and shoos him off with a, “Silly, you’re going to be late, off you go.” and he leaves to clock in.

 

 

Louis Tomlinson. A short, pixie faced boy with a fridge and that goes to his school and also is an occasional guest in the homeless shelter. Zayn first saw him here a year ago with wrecked hair and hunched shoulders and though it made Zayn wonder, he didn’t question Louis or any of the other workers because it’s just not any of his business.

 

 

When they made their first encounter on his next visit a month later, Louis looked like a deer caught in headlights. The embarrassment and shame was evident all over his face and in the tense of his shoulders. Zayn didn’t exactly know what to do but he knew he didn’t want to make Louis feel less of himself in this moment so he mustered up his best friendly, _I’m-not-judging-you face_ and lifted his arms. “Blanket?” He asked with a soft, kind voice and Louis’ body visibly relaxed, a sigh escaping his lips followed by a smile and “Yeah, thanks, mate.”

 

 

He left after three days.

 

Two weeks later Zayn regretted his friendly behavior because Louis came back and went straight up to him with a grin though there was stress embedded into each dip in the creases on his forehead.

 

 

“I hope you aren’t planning on wearing those… but if you are; kinky.” Louis had teased with a wink, addressing the black lace Zayn was pulling out of the dryer.

 

 

A laugh had escaped Zayn’s lips without warning and he had quickly snapped his mouth shut. He had shrugged and joked, “Wouldn’t be a first.” without so much as a thought.

 

 

A hardy laugh from Louis surprised him before the boy had said, “You’re secretly funny. Zayn, right?” Zayn kept his back to the boy and simply nodded his head while he continued to empty the dryer and fold the clothes. “Yeah, well thanks for, uh, not telling anyone I was here.” Louis sounded a bit sheepish and nervous but Zayn hadn’t turned around to confirm anything.

 

 

“Not my business to tell.” And after that Louis had patted his shoulder, thanked him again and sat on top of the washer, watching in silence as Zayn folded the guest’s clothing for the rest of the hour.

 

 

Four months and quite a few stays later they had their third encounter. Of course Louis was the one who initiated it because Zayn would much rather never speak to Louis again. And it’s not because he doesn’t like Louis-though the boy is loud and has far to much sass and attitude for Zayn to handle on a daily basis- it’s just, he’d rather Louis stay away from him.

 

 

“So, what? You volunteer here or something?” Louis had hip checked him while he was doing dishes in the kitchen (Which Louis isn’t even allowed back here but Zayn would be damned if he reprimanded one of the schools most popular athletes).

 

 

“Something like that.” He answered dryly and hoped his frown would scare Louis off. It doesn’t and really, he should have known better because as he observed at school, Louis is blunt and straightforward and not easily intimidated.

 

 

“Something like that huh?” Louis repeated with a suck of his teeth. “You know, I see you around school all the time but your always alone and you’ve got that whole mysterious thing down to a T.”

 

 

Zayn scuffed, shrugging again and heard Louis huff from beside him. He had leaned against the counter, arms crossed and begun to speak again much to Zayn’s dismay.

 

 

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

 

 

Again, Zayn shrugs his shoulders and hopes Louis will leave him alone. But he doesn’t and he’s not all that surprised.

 

 

“Alright.” he said. “My paps sends me here, you know. Well, not send exactly but he kicks me the house and I come here.” Louis started, catching Zayn by surprised but he doesn’t say anything, hardly acknowledges that Louis is speaking to him at all.

 

 

And he continues. “We don’t get along, not since I was a tot and my mum died. He says I look to much like her and he can’t take it. We get into arguments a lot, the mans a ticking time bomb, I never know when he’s going to pick a fight or how he’ll react to certain things. Sometimes It's my fault though, that we fight because I test him a lot, push him to his limit, ya know?" Zayn doesn't respond, just nods his head and listens as Louis continues. "When the arguments get bad he shoves me out the door though and wont let me come back home till he’s calmed down. Sometimes that takes hours, most of the time it takes days.” Louis told him, sounding a bit bitter and irritated. Maybe even sad.

 

 

“Sometimes I leave on my own though, like, by choice because I'm more pissed then he is. I want to leave too but I have no where to go. I have grandparents but they live hours away with my sisters and I don’t want to leave Wolverhampton.” By this time Zayn has stopped scrubbing the dishes and he’s staring at the bubbles in the sink, the water running as background noise as he listens to Louis go on. “So I come here because otherwise I’d be sleeping on a park bench and have you seen me? I’m gorgeous, creeps and pedophiles from all around will gather around and I don't want to risk anything.” Zayn fought against a laugh but he couldn’t hold back the amused smile that had spread his cheeks slightly.

 

 

“And I know you must be wondering why I don’t go to a mates house. Why I don’t go to Harry’s. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want them to know. They’ll pity me and they’ll want to help but I don’t need their help.” He spits and Zayn can’t help but nod in understanding. He buries his hands back into the water and continues cleaning the dishes.

 

 

“I wont tell anyone.” He said quietly. Louis grabbed a rag from the counter and picked up a glass plate, drying it and putting it on the rack, continuing with the other dishes.

 

 

“I know. That’s why I told you.”

 

 

And that was the end of that.

 

 

Louis is back tonight and he waves enthusiastically to Zayn from where he’s sitting on a cot with an older man who is grinning a toothless smile and talking with his hands. Zayn waves back less enthusiastic but still friendly and rushes down the hall and to the supply closet.

 

 

The night is long and exhausting, specially when you’re trying to avoid someone. He makes it till it’s time to clock out at 5. He’s pulling his leather back on and heading to the front exit when Louis slides in front of him with sleepy but curious eyes.

 

 

“Hm, thought it was you. A bit late to be here, no?”

 

 

“Technically it’s early.”

 

 

Louis rolls his eyes and speaks, “Keep up with that mouth of yours and I’ll cancel your lunch invitation with me and my mates.”

 

 

Zayn’s eyes widen. “W-what?”

 

 

“Pizza, you know, sauce and cheese on bread, circular form, sometimes square.” Now it’s Zayn’s turn to roll his eyes but he does it internally. “Meet me at Kenny’s Pizzas at 12. ’m sure the lads wont mind. I heard the new kid, Niall has taken a liking of you and correct me if I’m wrong but Harry says you find my pal, Liam, a nice piece of a-”

 

 

“I never said that!” He gasps, face turning a deep shade of red and Louis burst into laughter. Zayn glares and crosses his arms.

 

 

“You didn’t have to.” Louis says once he has calmed down. “Harry has a good eye for those things. How do you think we got together? He said I gave off these _vibes_ and I always gave him bedroom eyes-which I’m not denying or anything.” Louis rambles, moving his hands about. “But yeah, see you for lunch.”

 

 

“But I-”

 

 

“Goodnight! I need to be well rested before heading home in the morning incase my old man wants to pick any fights and plus, your ruining by beauty sleep.” Louis calls, stretching his arms over his head before disappearing from sight. Zayn sighs heavily and shakes his head, wondering just what the hell he’s going to do and leaves the shelter, planning to get home and hopefully squeeze in some good sleep before the girls wake up and he has to cook them breakfast and start the long, painful, cycle over again.

 

 

(He manages to get in a half an hour nap before the girls wake up and start causing a ruckus all throughout the house.)

 

 

  
~

 

 

  
He puts little to no effort into convincing his neighbors daughter, Alex, into watching the girls for him while he’s away. It’s little to no for two reasons, 1) he doesn’t even want to go and 2) Alex has the biggest, _creepiest_ crush on him and she'll pretty much do anything he asks. He’s very concerned she might sneak into his room and sniff around, steal his underwear.

 

 

  
_(of course I’ll watch them for you Zayn! Anything you want, babe!” Alex had said with a widest of grins and clamped hands pressed to her chest.)_

  
  


 

  
He huffs, pulling a black t-shirt over his head, one that’s a size or twoo to big due to the weight loss he’s had over the past few months. Those are followed by black jeans that he slips into way to easily.

 

 

He’s really not looking forward to this meet up. He feels guilty for leaving the girls in somebody else’s hands just so he can go eat with friends who really aren’t friends, just people who are too persistent and pushy all the time. People who for some reason want to be _his_ friend.

 

 

He places the same beanie over his head that he wears everyday, pockets a few bucks regretfully (he can’t just show up to a food joint without money, he’ll probably just say he’s not hungry) and slips on shoes before leaving his room and finding the girls in the living room with Alex, Safaa drawing on empty mail envelopes with cheap wax crayons and Waliyha rambling on about shit Zayn doesn’t really care about but has Alex bug eyed and nodding her head in excitement. Girls. He’s never _got_ them.

 

 

“I’m headin’ out.” He announces. “There’s lunch in the fridge and make sure you work on your homework and if anything happens, I mean _anything_ , call me.” He says sternly. “Also-”

 

 

“Zayn, we’ll be _fine_ , stop your worrying.” Waliyha drawls with a roll of her eyes. “Honestly, we could do without a babysitter too.”

 

 

“Wali-” He warns because with her, he knows a rant about her independence and responsibility will be coming very soon and he doesn’t want nor does he have time to hear it.

 

 

“I know, I know. Just go, have fun, see ya.” She waves him off, going back to chatting with Alex who now looks less invested into the conversation.

 

 

He walks over to Safaa, bends down to be at her level and runs his hands through her long black hair. “You sure you’re okay with me leaving, Saf? Cause if you don’t want me to go I’ll-”

 

 

“Bubba, I’m fine, I want you to go.”

 

 

“You sure?”

 

 

Safaa rolls her eyes with a sigh-he’s going to have to have a talk with Waliyha about this, she’s obviously learning from her- and says, “Yes, I’m positive.”

 

 

He sighs in defeat now that his last out has betrayed him and stands up again, his knees popping and aching, and heads for the door. He hesitates and wrestles with himself while reaching for the doorknob, glancing back at the girls busy with their own business and turns the doorknob.

 

~

 

The walk to Kenny’s is long and torturous on his body, his feet throb in these old sneakers, his legs burn and pulse like he’s just ran a 12k and pain shoots up and down his spine without break. But it’s nothing he isn’t use to and it’s nothing he can’t hide.

 

~

 

Louis is standing by the glass door when he arrives dressed in tight jeans, rolled up at the ankles and a plain grey t shirt. “Zayn, mate!” He shouts once Zayn’s gotten closer. And now that he is closer he can make out the light coloring under his eyes and the slump of his body, the usual sign that though he just returned home this morning, something’s already going on between him and his father again. But he isn’t going to pry, specially not here. If Louis wants him to know, he’ll tell him just like before. Plus he doesn’t even have the right to wonder, they are not friends.

 

 

“Was beginning to think you were a no show.” he pulls Zayn in for a brief hug that catches him by complete surprise and he returns it timidly.

 

 

“I just came for the pizza.”

 

 

“Oi, hush, that’s bullshit. Now c’mon, the lads are inside.” He says, grabbing Zayn by the wrist and leading him inside. Zayn allows himself to be pulled into the store simply because if it was up to him, he would have dashed as soon as Louis turned around.

 

 

Harry, Niall and Liam, all sitting in one window booth in the corner, Harry and Niall on one side, Liam on the other. His heart races at the sight of Liam’s head and he’s sure Louis can feel the quick pulses where his hand grips his wrist, leading him deeper into the shop. He seriously shouldn’t have come, this was a bad idea, very bad, he should have stood with the girls. Waliyha’s not very good at her multiplication still, he needs to help her figure it out and Safaa’s struggling with reading, something he’s very good at and he should be home right now helping them with their studies so they can get good grades, be somebody and get the hell out of this shit hole of a town.

 

 

He should not be here.

 

 

But he is and it’s to late to run now.

 

 

“Hey, Zayn! I didn’t know you were comin’!” Niall pipes, grinning wide and slapping the menu down on the table. Zayn smile shyly, scratching the back of his neck when they all look up from their menus. He makes his best effort to avoid Liam’s eyes, choosing to hold his gaze on the floor.

 

 

“Oi, I told you he was coming!” Louis shouts, sounding outraged that Niall would forget something that came out of his mouth, as if his words are precious. After spending most of high school sharing classes with Louis, Zayn supposes it’s true. “Sit Zayn.” He commands, urging him into the booth and Zayn hesitantly slides in, scoots to the middle when Louis sits next to him so he’s sitting between Liam and Louis. How lovely.

 

 

(he yawns)

 

 

“He was eating Doritos and skittles, babe, he was hardly listening.” Harry says with a fond look and Louis scuffs. Zayn shifts awkwardly, feeling weird and out of place as they all start teasing Niall about his eating habits, even Liam who met Niall _after_ he did. But he supposes they only get on so well because now that Niall is on the footy team they probably spend a lot more time together.

 

 

They all burst into laughter suddenly and Zayn looks up from where he was staring at the napkins thinking about his sisters and if he should call to check on them. They’re all pink in the face and slapping knees and Zayn looks around, feeling lost and seriously unnecessary in this group.

 

 

He really, really shouldn’t be here.

 

 

(he yawns)

 

 

But then Liam nudges him softly with his elbow and smiles at him, nice and friendly and comforting, as if he could tell Zayn wanted to bolt. It’s a bit unsettling, the thought that maybe he’s being a little to easy to read, but he smiles small and breathes a bit easier after. And maybe only one _really_ is necessary. But it’s a hell of a big _really_.

 

 

“So Zayn,” Harry says once they’ve settled down. “I’ve never seen you without a beanie. What’s up with that?”

 

 

Zayn almost chokes on the water he just sipped at the conversation change but he manages to swallow before shrugging one shoulder and saying, “Dunno, just prefer a beanie, ’s all.” and it’s half true. A beanie saves time, makes getting ready in the morning easier. Plus he’s really due for a haircut and the beanie hides the nest underneath. But he would like to do his hair like he use too, he use to feel a lot better about himself when he was properly groomed. But that was before his mother's paycheck got cut back and he could _afford_ to be properly groomed every now and then.

 

 

“You sure?” Louis asks. “You sure it’s hair under there? Or are you trying to hide something from us?” he adds with a teasing voice, tugging on a few strains of black hair that have escaped from under the beanie and are now dangling over his forehead.

 

 

“Maybe ’s a halo!” Niall exclaims. “He’s got the cheekbones of an angel!” he adds and Zayn feels his ears heat up, along with his cheeks and he ducks his head shyly to hide the blush. It’s just, compliments and attention and this is so _wrong_ and uncomfortable.

 

 

“Brilliant observation, Niall.” Louis nods approvingly. “Take it off, Z, lets see what’s under there.” he insist, reaching for the hat on top of Zayn’s head. He leans away from the hand, panicking until Liam reaches over and swats Louis’ hand away.

 

 

“Oi, lay off, Lou.” Liam defends sternly but it’s still light.

 

 

“He can defend himself, Liam.”

 

 

“Babe, you can be quite intimidating at times, leave him be.” Harry instructs and Louis backs off almost immediately, leaning back in his seat with a roll of eyes. Zayn shoots Harry a grateful look, which Harry responds with a dimpled smile.

 

 

“Can we order now?” Niall groans suddenly, looking desperate and pained.

 

 

“Yeah, sure. Get anything, lads, ’s on me.” Liam announces and Niall’s eyes light up as he cheers.

 

 

(Zayn just yawns again.)

 

 

Niall rattles off a bunch of meals he wants but in the end they order a large pizza with everything on it and it’s unfortunate for Zayn because _everything_ includes pepperoni, ham, and all that and because of his religion, he can’t eat it. But it’s not like he’s going to tell them that. He was really looking forward to some free pizza, plain cheese pizza, maybe veggie but now he’s going to have to sit there and claim that he’s not hungry (though he’s pretty starving) while he watches the lads chomp down on delicious slices of pizza right in front of him.

 

 

Now he really wishes he didn’t come but for other reasons.

 

 

“You’re not going to have any?” Harry asks once everyone has taken slices and Zayn’s the only one with an empty plate. Everyone looks at him now, at his plate and back and he flushes with embarrassment.

 

 

“Not hungry.” he answers quietly.

 

 

“You sure?” Liam asks, sounding unconvinced and Zayn furrows his eyebrows in confusion because why would Liam even care?

 

 

“Yeah, I uh, I have to make a phone call. I’ll um, be back.” he rushes out and ignores everyone’s odd looks. Louis scoots out the booth so he can get out and he exits the pizza shop in a hurry. When the warm air hits his skin he inhales deep, his breath coming out shaky but easier then before. He pulls out his phone, leans against the brick wall and dials his house phone number.

 

 

While it rings he fishes out his pack of Marlboros, lights up and takes a much needed pull, settling into the nicotine and letting it calm his nerves.

 

 

Alex picks up with a cheery “Hello, Zayn!” and he rolls his eyes, not really wanting to go along with the cheery mood.

 

 

“Hi, how are the girls?” He asks, hoping maybe finding out how his sisters are will relax him a little.

 

 

“Oi, their great, Safaa is practicing her reading with me right now and she’s doing a rather well. And I just finished helping Waliyha with her math homework.” she tells him delightfully and Zayn’s throat constricts at the thought of not being there to do all that himself. It’s not Alex’s job to take care of his girls, it’s his job and now he feels ten times guiltier for pinning them on her, for leaving them, for forcing himself into this.

 

 

He swallows, breathes deeply.

 

 

“Oi, uh, great. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He tells her, forcing a pleasant tone and a smile that’s tight.

 

 

“Take your time.” She says before hanging up. He takes the phone off his ear slowly, pocketing it and taking a hit of his forgotten fag. He runs a hand over his face, feeling suddenly so much more tired and worn out. He yawns, rubbing his eyes and considers heading back home. Yeah, he’ll just head home and-

 

 

“Alright?” Someone asks, sliding beside him and leaning against the wall as well. He recognizes the voice, finds it would be hard to forget it and nods his head, forcing the most convincing smile he can muster right now.

 

 

“Yeah, ’m great.” He says, hoping Liam didn’t catch the bitterness in his tone. Zayn sure did.

 

 

“I don’t want to pry but, you don’t seem to fine. You looked kind of upset.” Liam insists and Zayn sighs, finally looks up at those big brown eyes that look far to concerned for comfort.

 

 

“I’m not upset.”

 

 

“So why’d you leave?”

 

 

Zayn sighs for what must be the umpteenth time today and scratches the short scruff along his jaw. “I just, I can’t eat pork, I’m muslim and there was pork on that pizza.” He admits regretfully. It’s not that he’s ashamed of being muslim either, it’s just, some people aren’t to friendly about his religion. He had to learn that the hard way.

 

 

“Oi.” Liam breathes, realization covering his face. “Well that’s fine, I’ll get you some plain pizza, is that okay?”

 

 

Zayn shakes his head and answers, “No.” because he doesn’t want to be singled out, doesn’t want to feel even more different, odd, out of place. He doesn’t want to be looked at like he’s some freak. “I mean, I can eat it but I just, I think I’m going to head home. ’m not quite feeling this anymore.” _I never did_.

 

 

“Alright, I can give you a ride?” he offers but again Zayn denies.

 

 

“ ’m just ganna walk, thanks though.” _I don’t want to be a burden._

 

 

“Okay.” He says, sounding a little disappointed and that sends a harsh pang of guilt into his chest. _Always disappointing someone, always, I am._

 

 

“Can I at least get yo-”

 

 

“I have to go.” He cuts off, feeling like a giant prick but he can’t let this continue, he _had_ to cut him off before he finished that sentence. “Tell the lads 'm sorry I couldn’t stay.”

 

 

Liam nods his head, looking defeated and Zayn wants to claw his own eyes out.

 

 

“Thanks.” He mumbles, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and turning to walk away.

 

 

“See you.” He hears. It’s quiet, a whisper, maybe not really meant for him to hear but it makes his chest tighten further, painfully, he almost can’t breathe and he doesn’t even understand _why._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so how was that? I was going to make Louis completely homeless but idk, I decided against it. But yeah, next chapter should be up soon :)
> 
> Lemme know what you thought! I know you want to leave me kudos *nudge nudge* *wink wink*


	5. chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, lemme say I am so surprised about the outcome of this story so far, like the attention it's getting. I never expected people to actually like this, I almost didn't post it because I was convinced it was crap but I went through with it because i wanted to post something personal and almost home hitting (I've added extra drama to this) and to share my thoughts and feelings through Zayn. And I'm very pleased that people actually enjoy this.
> 
> I just want to say a huge thank you for the lovely comments and kudos and bookmarks, it means a lot. This update is kind of like a gift i guess you can say, depending on how much of a fan you are of this story. So, Happy Holidays, i hope yours goes great, smile, you deserve too :)

 

Zayn manages to avoid Niall during their periods together. He makes sure to be the first person in both classes so he can get settled quickly, rest his head and act as if he’s asleep so Niall wont attempt to make conversation or ask him why he ditched Saturday. And he makes sure he’s the first person out of class, acting as if he hadn’t heard Niall calling his name or felt that crumbled piece of paper hit the back of his neck.

 

 

He catches glimpses of Harry, catches Harry catching glimpses of him but all in all, he escapes those potential encounters by rushing into class or down the hall in a way he knows looks suspicious but he doesn’t really care.

 

 

He doesn’t see Liam at all.

 

 

He’s shutting his locker, ready-more or less- to finally go to lunch when Louis appears beside him, arms crossed and leaning against the locker next to his with a frown and pinched eyes.

 

 

He jumps in surprise, just managing to suppress a pathetic squeak. “Look who it is, _Mr. Disappear-without so-much-as-an-explanation_.” Louis snaps, glaring at him.

 

 

“That’s an awful long name.” He responds dryly, turning away and walking off to the cafeteria.

 

 

“Oi, I don’t think so. You skipped out Saturday, the least you could do is eat with me today.” Louis informs, grabbing him by the elbow and Zayn’s realizing that Louis must have a thing for dragging people around without their permission. And he’s not very big on that.

 

 

“Uh, I can’t.” He says, trying to get his elbow out of Louis’ hold but the boy is not so surprisingly stronger then him and he’s got a damn good grip.

 

 

“Why?” Louis asks, stopping in the middle of the hallway and turning to look at him with a challenging glint in his blue eyes. “Sitting with all your _other_ friends?”

 

 

Zayn sucks in a breath at the snark in Louis' tone, his eyes squint and he snatches his elbow away from an unsuspecting Louis finally. He knows he doesn’t have any other friends, obviously, but it’s by choice mostly and Louis just used the fact to try and hurt him and that's what actually hurts him a little.

 

 

He glares instead of giving the sharp comment at the tip of his tongue because just like he doesn’t want to make friends, he doesn’t want to make enemies, and then tries to walk away but Louis is sighing and pulling him back by the collar of his T shirt.

 

 

“Sorry, that was mean. Louis Tomlinson just doesn’t take well to rejection, ‘s all. It’s not all that often that he has too.” He apologizes, sounding honest and that softens Zayn up considerably because he’s not really one to hold grudges, specially when someone apologizes with real sincerity and a stupid petty pout.

 

 

“Well Zayn Malik doesn’t take well to being manhandled by you so if you would stop lugging me around.” he retorts, crossing his arms with his new found confidence towards this boy. Normally he would cower away or give in and he surprises himself with the response. But it’s probably just because of his anger, not because he’s warming up to Louis or anything. No, that’d be absurd.

 

 

“Louis Tomlinson thinks that’s the longest sentence he has ever heard come out of Zayn Malik’s mouth.”

 

 

Zayn rolls his eyes and says, “Zayn Malik doesn’t understand why we’re talking in third-person.”

 

 

“Louis Tomlinson finds it amusing.”

 

 

“Zayn Malik does not.”

 

 

“So why is Zayn Malik still doing it?”

 

 

“Because Zayn Ma-” he pauses. “ _I_ am going to lunch now.”

 

 

“Oi, what are the chances, so is Louis Tomlinson.” He responds, linking their arms and heading for the cafeteria doors. Zayn groans, follows without a choice and tries his best to ignore all the looks people are giving them, all the shocked, some even disapproving looks. But it’s hard when he’s trying to _blend_ in, when he’s trying to _avoid_ all that unwanted attention.

 

 

He pushes his rectangular frames up his nose because they’re slipping down and he adjusts the beanie over his hair self consciously as Louis stops in the hallway to complement a pretty brunette on her loud outfit and he’s pretty sure her name is like, Ellen or Eleanor or something. Niall has pointed her out during lunch once or twice and how she’s supposedly the schools _‘fashionista’s’_ or whatever. He suspects Niall may have a thing for her if he can go by the way he perks up when he sees her and she waves at him but Niall also perks up at the mention of Mc Donald’s so.

 

 

“El, this is mysterious Zayn, Zayn this is the lovely Eleanor.” Louis introduces and Zayn freezes, _is he really introducing us? And why am i mysterious?_ he asks himself in disbelief. He lifts his eyes from the floor, lands them on the girl in front of him and his throat dries.

 

 

“Hiya, Zayn!” She grins, “I love your leather, it’s got that nice vintage look to it.” she says, touching the sleeve of his leather and he tenses, watches her fingers graze the old material.

 

 

“Uh, thanks.” He forces, gulps and down cast his eyes. Her hand removes and she starts chatting with Louis again and maybe Zayn can slip away now, leave to lunch without Louis noticing except Louis still has his arm looped with Zayn’s and it’d be quite difficult to slip it out without knocking Louis in the side with his sharp elbows. 

 

 

When they finally get to the line and get their lunches Zayn turns, walks off to the big tree he always eats his lunch under but Louis is stopping in front of him with an incredulous look.

 

 

“Where are you going?”

 

 

“To eat my lunch.” he answers with a roll of his eyes.

 

 

“But aren’t you sitting with me?” Louis asks, looking genuinely confused and that’s surprising because does Louis actually _want_ to eat lunch with _him?_

 

 

“Louis, please, I’m just going to eat by myself, okay?” _I can’t eat with you, I can’t be your friend._

 

 

“But… you always eat by yourself, don’t you get lonely?”

 

 

Zayn shrugs, side-steps Louis and walks off to his tree, not giving the question much thought because if he does, if he looks around at all the students laughing and chatting, at the couples holding hands and radiating joy and love, if he looks around himself, finds no one there, his only company being rotting flowers and the falling leaves from Autumn arriving quickly, if he pays notice to the crushing feeling in his chest, then yeah, he can admit that maybe, just maybe, he is kind of lonely. Kind of.

 

 

But that hardly matters. What matters is work, is school, is his sisters, his mum, his home. That all matters. Not his petty loneliness. He can’t pay bills or buy his girls Halloween costumes with loneliness. _Fuck_ Halloween costumes.

 

 

Harry waves at him before sliding into one of the tables with Louis, Niall tries to sit with him but Zayn shakes his head, mouths _‘Not today’ (Not ever)_ to him. Liam offers him a hesitant smile and Zayn feels horrible, immensely guilty because he probably gave away the wrong impression Saturday, gave Liam reason to believe Zayn was mad at him, didn’t like him. But Zayn returns the smile (though he knows he probably shouldn’t) and sees the way Liam’s smile widens, turns into something more confident and then he breaks eye contact because he can’t look at Liam smiling at him anymore and goes back to eating his shitty grilled cheese that he hardly finds appetizing at all. He’s having trouble holding down any food recently. His appetite is almost gone and the most he eats is a little nibble here and there for the rest of lunch.

 

 

He sleeps through all his periods because he’s fucking tired and he doesn’t even have the energy to care. He skips out on gym, wanting to avoid Liam (though he really, _really_ wants to see him), takes the girls out of school early (something he only does on the rare occasion) and gets started with the cycle early. He finally goes food shopping though, with the help of his girls and he puts the food away while they distract themselves with whatever they like.

 

 

He prepares a proper after school meal now that they’re kitchen is finally somewhat full but his stomach turns at the sight of macaroni and cheese and even the sandwich he tries to force down his throat. So he decides not to eat, watches the girls eat while his stomach twist and his face cringes.

 

 

He cleans the rest of the days till his fingers are numb, helps the girls with homework till his brain fries over, cooks, entertains, cares till he considers calling out of work tonight because he already feels like his bones might snap in half soon and the bags under his eyes from the stress and lack of sleep are becoming far to ridiculous to ignore anymore. But no. He has to go to work. The bills are coming and he’s already behind on quite a few. He _has_ to work. He has no choice.

 

 

And if he breaks a little bit in private, lets a few pieces of his hard surface crack and fall and he sobs under the icy spray of water on his bare skin before work then only he has to know.

 

~

 

  
Louis isn’t at the shelter tonight which is a relief. It saves him the trouble of hiding, avoiding, going into full stealth mode.

 

But he’s dizzy, sore in a different way, throughout the night.

 

~

 

  
He misses the early morning bus.

 

 

Fuck. He misses the fucking bus.

 

 

Which means he has to walk home. At 5:20 in the morning.

 

 

He pulls his leather tighter around himself and leaves the bus stop, heads in the direction he knows will lead him home but at this rate he wont be home until around six.

 

 

His head throbs, a migraine soon on it’s way, and if he isn’t already in enough pain, he has the worst knot in his shoulders and each step feels like someone is stabbing the soles of his feet and all along his legs.

 

 

The weather is brisk, there’s a cold breeze and no sun to keep him warm. The streets are empty for the most part and lights are off in every building, and he’s picking up speed because he may be a bit put off by the heavy silence. Specially since he’s now entering his side of town, the side that’s kind of shabby and is home to the most crimes. Minor crimes but still. But he’ll be fine. He has to be fine.

 

 

He’s walking quick, shoulders hunched and his head bowed but his eyes are blurry, throbbing even and he’s so dizzy. His stomach has been fucking with him all night and it bubbles violently now. His head feels like it might just roll of his body, it’s so heavy and everything is spinning around him. A wave of nausea travels from his stomach to his throat and next thing he knows he’s hunched over, gripping a light post and gagging, spitting but nothing else coming out.

 

 

His knees wobble and his eyes are slipping shut, his legs give out and before he can face plant the floor, something, or someone, is holding arms and pulling him up.

 

 

“Oi, easy there, mate.” the voice says but it sounds distant, foreign, so far away while the stranger lifts him, throws an arm around his waist. Zayn’s head lulls over onto the strangers shoulder as he leads him to the bench easily which really tells him something about his decreasing weight because the most help he gives is lifting his feet so slightly.

 

 

He feels himself being placed onto a cold bench and a hand pressed to his forehead but he can’t see who is doing any of it because his eyes are shut and he can’t open them, _really_ can’t.

 

 

“You look wrecked. Drunk or something?”

 

 

“I don’t… I don’t drink.” He answers weakly, his words breathy and drawled.

 

 

“So just sick? Well, here have some of these, they’ll make you feel _much_ better.” The stranger says and Zayn can hear the smirk in his tone. It helps him summon enough energy to open his eyes half way and take a peak at the smirking stranger.

 

 

“Who are you?” He asks, voice horsed from gagging.

 

 

“ ‘m names Josh. Here,” Josh says, lunging his hand forward, a pill bottle in his hands. “take um, trust, you’ll feel loads better.” he says and Zayn eyes the bottle warily.

 

 

“What even are those?”

 

 

Josh laughs, uncaps the bottle. “They’re drugs. Don’t worry, bro, they’re great.” He says, uncapping the bottle and pulling out two oval shaped pills.

 

 

“Those aren’t Advil, they aren’t for physical illness.” He points out and Josh laughs again.

 

 

“Yeah but physical, mental, all that other shit, it’s all in the same ball park, no?” He insist, shrugging. “C’mon, ‘m givin’ um for free, you hav’ta take. It’s only good manners.”

 

 

Zayn lets out a weak laugh because there is no way in hell he is going to take those and shakes his head. He’s not stupid either, he knows Josh is only offering him these free of charge only to get him hooked or whatever and then he’ll be back for more, only next time Josh would charge him. Seriously, he’s not fooling anyone. “Nah, mate, I’m good. ’m not taking those.” He says, pushing the outstretched hand away from him. Josh frowns and puts the tablets back into the bottle, sitting on the bench and Zayn just wants to get home.

 

 

“Well, if you’re not going to take them, sell um.” Josh suggest, dropping the full bottle onto Zayn’s lap and Zayn’s eyes widen, looking at Josh incredulously. “I’ve got more then enough bottles back home and I need someone to help me get rid of them before my old lady finds um. She’s coming home tomorrow and she hates when I sell this shit even though it pays for her bloody shoes.”

 

 

Zayn almost laughs in his face. “Your kidding, yeah? No way in hell, man. Sorry.” He says, blown away because is this kid serious?

 

 

“Okay, listen, I know who you are, Zayn. I live ‘round these streets and I see you all the time. Exhausted, you must be, working loads for money and all that. My mum knows your mum, I know enough details.” He says shrugging. “ ‘m just saying, mate, 30 pounds a pill and you’re pockets will be overflowing by the last sale. Gotta take care of those bills, yeah? And your sisters? Just imagine.”

 

 

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, eyeing the bottle again then Josh then back to the bottle because he makes enough points. He gives it a quick thought, thinks about how useful the extra cash would be, how many bills he can knock out, the things he can buy his sisters just like Josh said. But no, he shoves the thought aside because it’s risky and not worth it.

 

 

“No, ‘m not interested.” He says sternly, sitting straighter now that his energy is restoring from the rest.

 

 

“Fine, ‘m not ganna force you or nothing but I’ll give you a second chance, incase you change your mind.” _not likely._ “Keep the bottle, ‘ve got a customer about due for another purchase and I’ll tell ‘im to meet you here, this exact spot. You decide to show, make the sale, you chicken out, I’ll find you and you give the bottle back. Simple as that.” Josh tells him, standing up and adjusting his jacket. Zayn hesitates, grabs the bottle, holding it at a distance and peers at it, thoughts racing.

 

 

“You decide to do this, I’ll give you the address to my guy and you can buy more off of him. Buy the drugs cheaper, sell um at a higher price. Tha’s how it works. Oi, and of course, don’t get caught.” Zayn doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at him, just stares at the bottle, contemplating if this is even a _decent_ idea. His heart pounding in his ears because, is he really even considering this?

 

 

This is bad, wrong, _illegal_.

 

 

“Here’s my number.” a slip of paper is placed next to him on the bench. “Text me with your answer tonight.” And then he’s gone, hiking his jacket up his shoulders, ducking his head and gone.

 

 

But the money would help so _so_ much.

 

 

And now Zayn’s dizzy, nauseous for a whole other reason.

 

  
~

 

  
He gets home 10 minutes before 7 because for the past hour his ass has been glued on that bench, his eyes focused on a bottle hidden between his thighs while he weighed the pros and cons of actually going through with this.

 

 

In the end he decided, _this is not me, no way in hell I’m doing this._

 

 

But when he closes the front door behind him, his eyes immediately focus on the stack of unpaid bills piled by the door, on Safaa’s toys that are made from scotch tap and card board. They’re scattered on the floor, broken, ripped, pathetic and when he flips the light switch, tries to shed some light to see better, _nothing_.

 

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, balls his fists and delivers a blow to the wall that sends a jolt of pain from his hand, along his wrist and forearm but he has to much angry adrenaline to focus or even notice the fierce ache or the blood.

 

 

“Fuck.” He hisses, shoving his good in his pocket and pulling out a small piece of paper, a number and name scrawled out on it.

 

 

With his phone, he dials the number.

 

 

Three rings and, “Hello?”

 

 

“Josh?”

 

 

“Zayn? That was quick. So wha’s your answer?”

 

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

 

“My man! Knew you’d come through.”

 

 

“Text me the details.”

 

 

“Whatever you say. Cheers, mate.”

 

 

_Click._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, i hope you don't hate me because of this! And lemme just say, I don't know anything about drugs, i don't do them and i hardly know much about selling them. I know some because my mothers boyfriend is in the "business" and she tells me everything so i have a bit of an idea of how it goes. But i'm no expert so sorry for anything that's inaccurate. 
> 
> So, give me your comments, i'd love to know what you thought. Just don't be to harsh on me, i'm sensitive.


	6. chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh forget notes, i have a headache and i can't be bothered to write anymore shit here. Enjoy, love you guys, blah blah, Happy Holidays, yada yada, be safe and get hella drunk this new years!

Zayn drops his heavy bag onto the tiled floor, wincing at the loud thud. He takes a deep breath, slides into his desk and stretches his back, messages his fingers of his good hand into his shoulders and rolls his neck. It pops along with his elbows and he huffs, rubs his eyes and lowers his head into his arms, careful to avoid putting pressure on his injured hand, the one wrapped in a creme colored bandage because it's still swollen and bruised. He thinks he might have the nurse check it out sometime today.

 

 

“Hey, Zayn!” Niall pipes, sliding into his desk behind him in English Lit. Zayn internally groans, not at all in the mood for conversation because of his _long_ night. He has literally been up for 24 hours straight and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open let alone form coherent words. His mind is completely burnt out.

 

 

“Jeez, long night?” Niall asks when Zayn forces his head up. He reads the sympathy on Niall’s face, forces back a cringe and grunts, hardly caring to even _try_ to convince Niall that he is fine. “Well, I wont keep you, get some sleep, man.” he says, patting his back and Zayn wants to sob from the pain that shoots through his body. But instead he just grunts again and drops his head again.

 

 

“What happened to your hand? Broke or something?” Niall asks and Zayn feels the bandage wrapped around his hand being picked at. He hisses when Niall pokes it and tries not to snap.

 

 

“Niall, please.” He groans.

 

 

Niall pulls away, puts his hands up in defense and says, “Okay.”

 

 

He’s drifting between reality and dream world, his eyelids heavy and his face pressed shamelessly to the wood of his desk when Niall taps his shoulder. He groans, peaks his eyes open and squints at Niall. “Yo, dude, what’re you doin’ tis weekend?”

 

 

“Working.” He drawls, eyes slipping shut again even though he trying to keep them open.

 

 

“Sucks. ‘m throwin’ a wicked Halloween party Thursday, was ganna ask if you wanna come.”

 

 

“Can’t make it.” He grumbles. _I don’t want to go_. “Sorry.”

 

 

“ ‘s cool.” Niall sighs, leans back in his seat and Zayn absolutely  _refuses_ to feel guilty.

 

 

Niall leaves him alone after that, lets him get back to napping except he doesn’t fall asleep. His eyes are watery and burning and his brain is throbbing and fuzzy but he can’t sleep.

 

  
~

 

  
“Hey, mate, you okay?”

 

 

Zayn’s head is currently hiding in his locker in the middle of the hallway, his body hardly being held up by his frail knees. He blinks his eyes open, grimaces at the drool on the corner of his mouth and takes his head out of his locker, wiping his mouth clean.

 

 

“Hm.” He hums, forces a weak, reassuring smile. “Yeah… yeah ‘m good.”

 

 

“You look dead.” Harry says with a teasing smile. “And this corpse could use a nice shave.” he adds, tugging the short strains of scruff covering Zayn’s jaw.

 

 

Zayn huffs a weak laugh and bats Harry’s hand away from his face. “What do you want, Harry?” he asks, trying to sound more irritated but it comes out sounding more amused, almost  _fond_ if he dare. Which he wont so it’s not.

 

 

“Nothing, just thought I’d say hi, walk you to your next class because that’s what good friends do.” Harry says, throwing an arm around Zayn’s bony shoulders and it takes a lot of energy to keep himself up from the extra weight, to not collapse onto the floor and maybe cry into the tile and wish the body of student will trample him unconcious.

 

 

“Right, y-yeah.” He mumbles, _we’re not friends_ , he thinks.

 

 

“So, Lou’s been acting weird all day. Have you talked to him today?” Harry asks him, his tone boadering worried but still calm like he's trying to hide his concern.

 

 

“Not really, no.”

 

 

“Hm.” Harry huffs, sounding suddenly irritated and Zayn just scratches his scruff, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone he can _feel_ staring at them. “He’s been snappy, frowning a lot. It’s odd because he gets like that every once and a while and he wont tell me what’s up. He normally tells me everything.” he adds and Zayn can bet he knows why Louis is acting like this. It sounds like something is going on back home and he will probably be seeing Louis at the shelter tonight.

 

 

“Yeah?” he asks, feigning concern, curiosity.

 

 

“Mhm and it’s frustrating because I bet I could help with whatever it is too.” Harry really sounds miffed about this and Zayn actually feels a little guilty because he knows what’s going on with Louis and Harry, Louis’ _boyfriend,_ doesn’t even know. Maybe he should say something.

 

 

“Maybe he doesn’t want help.” He suggest, remembering Louis’ words all those months ago, _They’ll pity me and they’ll want to help but I don’t want their help_. Yeah, he didn’t sound like he wanted any kind of help and Zayn’ll put money on it that he still doesn’t want help.

 

 

“Well that’s bullshit. Everyone needs a little help sometimes and he should stop being so bloody proud or whatever, to take it.” Harry says and Zayn shrugs, stops and announces that, "This is my class." and Harry removes his arm, gives him a dimpled smile.

 

 

“See ya at lunch, Zaynie.” He pats the beanie covering Zayn’s hair and turns, walking away and Zayn will deny it if anyone asks but he smiles a little at the surprise nickname, even if it’s stupid and a little to friendly for _acquaintances_.

 

  
~

 

  
He eats lunch alone.

 

 

Stays inside instead of eating outside like normal because he’s pretty sure if he ate outside one of the lads would try to convince him to sit with them. Plus it’s getting kind of chilly out.

 

 

Lonnie, a petite girl with a boys cut and crazy clear blue eyes, approaches him while he’s trying to keep down a bit of his pasta at a corner table. She smiles down at him and he freezes in his seat, forces himself to swallow the noodles slowly and stare up at her with wide eyes, frightened eyes. _What does she want?_

 

 

“Hey, Zayn!” The peppy cheerleader greets, grinning ear to ear and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

 

 

“Um, h-hi.” He stutters, trying to discreetly close his sketch pad he was doodling in and slide it under his tray.

 

 

“Louis, Liam, Harry and Niall are looking for you, said I saw you inside and I’d let you know.” She informs him and Zayn asks himself how she even knows his name, knows he _exists._

 

 

“Uh, yeah?” He asks shyly, his eyes flickering to the window where he can see students eating and chatting amongst themselves.

 

 

“Totally, c’mon, I'll show you where they are.” She offers and he looks back at the cheesing girl, mouth dry as he stutters, “I uh, I can’t. I have to… I have to go.” and he stands abruptly grabs his sketch pad and rushes out of the cafeteria, leaving Lonnie alone and baffled.

 

 

He hurries as fast as his creaking bones will let him go, hurries through the empty halls, finds the right staircase and climbs them till he reaches the floor of the art department. He runs into one of the empty classrooms, slamming the door shut and sliding down it, buries his face in his hands.

 

 

He can finally _breathe_ in here.

 

 

They’re looking for _him_. Sending people to find _him_. Asking for _him_.

 

 

They’re popular. Lonnie’s popular. They talk to _him._ She talked to _him_. She was nice to _him_.

 

 

And he’s… he’s _him_.

 

 

This year is suppose to be like every other year. He’s suppose to be invisible, blend in, be a nobody because it’s just easier that way. Friends are a distraction, friends are useless, he doesn’t need friends. He’s put his all into shutting everyone out, he’s turned away people in the past but these _people_ are persistent, they wont let him get away. And fuck, what does he do now?

 

  
~

 

  
He just left the school, is now dragging the sole of his beat up converse along the pavement as he walks to the school his sisters attend just a few minutes away. He’s got a dull pound in his temples and his joints grind together painfully, screaming at him to sit the fuck down and rest but he keeps trudging down the side walk. No time for rest.

 

 

He’s so fucking tired and he swears he’s seeing stars but he just shoves his hands deeper in his pockets, closes his eyes and imagines himself anywhere but here, imagines a life without exhaustion and stress and worries. And it just makes him feel worse.

 

 

“Zayn!” Someone calls but he keeps stepping, squeezes his eyes tight and tries to stay in his daydream where shit actually goes right for him.

 

 

But, “Hey, Zayn, wait up!” is being shouted and then in seconds there’s a hand dropped on his shoulder and it takes his everything not to snap, ask this person just what the fuck they want from him because he’s so irritated and frustrated, more then usual. And it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t flip his shit because he’d sure hate himself more it he yelled at this person.

 

 

“Oi, uh, hi Liam.” He says slowly, a little unsure if Liam is actually walking beside him or if he’s just so fucking spent his hallucinations have upgraded from seeing stars to people who aren’t actually there. Maybe he should stick his hand out and see if it goes straight through Liam's stomach. Maybe that's a stupid idea.

 

 

“Hey.” He greets, smiling that crinkled smile that has Zayn swooning internally. And yeah, this Liam has to be real because the smile is so warm and perfect, there’s no way his imagination could do it justice and it sends a tickle down his spine. “Where ya going?”

 

 

Zayn looks away, cast his eyes on the ground again because he can’t look at Liam this close and actually expect to _speak_. He shrugs his shoulders, fiddles with the lighter in his pocket. “Have to pick up my sisters.” He answers before his eyebrows furrow and something hits him. “Wait, you’re skipping school.” He more points out then questions, finding it hard to believe Liam Payne is skipping last period.

 

 

“So are you. Besides I just have study hall and haven’t got any homework.” Liam shrugs and Zayn looks up at him, his eyes traveling along his face, admiring the way the sun behind his head shines around him, making him glow like something out of heaven and when Liam looks down he snaps his head to the ground again, a blush that he tries to will away, staining his cheeks.

 

 

“Right.” He mumbles, mentally cursing himself for staring. He’s such an idiot. Liam probably thinks so too.

 

 

“So uh, like, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Like, you seemed pretty upset Saturday and you’ve been avoiding us this week.” he says and Zayn doesn’t dare let himself look up, let himself read Liam’s expression, the tells in the dips of his features to see if he really does care or if he’s just making conversation. He doesn’t dare because he doesn’t want to know which and it’s most likely the last.

 

 

And when has it matter if he avoided them? When did it become avoiding? When did they think they were close enough that not talking even counted as _avoiding_?

 

 

“I’m fine, I’m good-” He rushes out a bit to quickly, catches himself and slows his answer. “I’m not avoiding, just… been busy.”

 

 

He feels Liam’s eyes on him but he refuses to look up, keeps his own ahead of him. Silence falls over them and Zayn wishes it was awkward, uncomfortable so he’d know this… that they weren’t anything because strangers have awkward silences but it’s peaceful, relaxing in a way even and it’s ironically unsettling in the pit of his stomach. It should not be this easy, this calming between them all ready. Ever.

 

 

He turns, walks the path that leads to a bench in front of the school that he normally sits at, waits for his girls to come out the main doors and run into his arms. Or Safaa at least. Waliyha rolls her hazels and plays it cool in front of her friends.

 

 

Liam follows, sits on the bench with him, a little too close for comfort and he fights with himself on whether he should move over or scoot closer.

 

 

“So why doesn’t your mum or dad pick you sisters up from school?” Liam asks after a few minutes of quiet staring at the front of the school.

 

 

“I like too.” He lies. Kind of. He does enjoying the walk with his sisters but he just wishes he didn’t have to do it everyday, specially in the cold winter.

 

 

“So you’re close with your sisters then?”

 

 

“Yeah, we’re always together.” _(You have no idea)_ He responds, tangling his fingers together, untangling and fiddling shyly. Liam spreads his legs a little wider, his knee knocks Zayn’s gently and he keeps it there. The touch burns through his jeans and he wants move away, get as far away as possible. But he doesn’t actually want too.

 

 

“Wish I could say the same. I’m an only child.”

 

 

“You don’t like it?” _I can imagine it’s lovely_. His breath hitches at his unexpected internal comment. Liam doesn’t notice.

 

 

“Sometimes but it can get a bit lonely, having a big ol’ house to myself while my mums at work.” Liam tells him and Zayn dares to look at him, to catch the small frown on his lips and the crease in his forehead. Zayn wants nothing more then to reach up and smooth it away, kiss the frown away, make the lonely go away. But no, wrong, bad. Never.

 

 

He turns away before he can stare any longer, make a bigger embarrassing fool of himself and asks, “You and your mum are close?”

 

 

“Yeah.” He responds with a lighter, pleasant tone. “Awfully close. After my dad left it was just me and her everyday. She’s always there for me, always does everything she can. And she’s the best cook. She’s…. she’s the best.” Zayn can hear the fond in Liam’s voice and when he looks up he can see it in his eyes, in his smile and it warms him to the bone for some reason he's not going to go searching for. “Until-” but Liam pauses, shakes his head and Zayn wants to press, wants to know what else he was going to say and why he decided not to but in the end he figures he has to let it slide because it's none of his business anyway. If Liam doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want him to know, then who is he to try and force it out.

 

 

“She sounds lovely.” He responds instead, smiling softly to himself. _Smiling_ , it feels weird.

 

 

“Yeah. What about your mum?” Liam asks making Zayn internally wince. He was regretting that question before it was even thought of.

 

 

“Uh… she’s uh, she’s-” And it’s just his luck when the dismissal bell rings through the air and the main doors burst open, children running to their parents or to their buses. Zayn stands, hikes his backpack higher on his shoulders and searches the crowd for his sisters.

 

 

“Zayn!” A high pitch, giggly voice screams and he looks ahead of him, finds a short, skinny girl with silky long hair racing to him, her arms wide open and inviting. He smiles, opens his own arms and allows Safaa to crash straight into him even though the force makes him wince. “Ugh school is _torture!_ Don’t make me go back bubba!” She cries, drama queen mode switched on.

 

 

“What happened today?” He asks hesitantly, already knowing by the tone and despirtation of his sister that she must have stirred up some kind of trouble today.

 

 

Safaa groans long and hard and detaches herself from Zayn’s thin body. “Miss. Monroe yelled at me because I hit Jeremy in the nose but he's annoying and he was pulling my hair. I had to go to the office."

 

"Safaa." He sighs and glances at Liam, notices that he's smiling as if this is all amusing. It probably would be for Zayn too if this wasn't the third time this school year that his sister has gotten herself sent to the office. He's pretty sure suspension is on it's way if he doesn't have a stern talk with her soon.

 

"She’s a big smelly cow, no wonder she’s not married!” Safaa huffs, stomping her foot and Zayn can hear Liam chuckle beside him. He looks at him again, finds him covering his mouth, trying to hold the laughter in. 

 

 

“Now, love, that’s not very nice.” Zayn lectures, a frown on his face as he pets Safaa’s hair out of her face.

 

 

“Neither is her hair but that doesn’t stop her from doing those stupid breads. Seriously, she’s sooo old!”

 

 

“Alright, Safaa, that’s enough, okay?” He tells her softly but stern enough that she snaps her mouth shut and pouts at the ground.

 

 

“Oi, who’s the eye candy?” Another voice says and Zayn looks up to find Waliyha looking Liam up and down.

 

 

“Wali, he’s years older then you, stop.” he says but it goes unheard.

 

 

“ ‘m Liam.” Liam introduces.

 

 

“Waliyha.” She says. “Is this a _friend_ , Zayn?” She asks, a smirk on her lips and a wiggle in her eyebrows. Zayn’s eyes widen, a blush creeping onto his cheeks at the hidden meaning in her words that he hopes only he caught. “We’ve never met one of Zayn’s friends. You must be pretty special.” She adds and Zayn peaks at Liam, afraid he might be cringing, might be uncomfortable at the thought but he’s smiling, amusement in his eyes when he glances at Zayn.

 

"Hope so." Liam responds and Zayn's blush only grows more fierce.  _What the hell does that even mean?_

 

 

“Oi, look, Waliyha! Isn’t that Mark, that _beautiful_ boy from your maths class?” He quickly mentions before she can say something else and points in the distance with a satisfied smirk when Waliyha squeaks and scurries behind him.

 

 

“A crush?” Liam asks and Zayn looks at him, finds him closer then he was moments ago.

 

 

He gulps, nods and forces out, “Yeah, huge.” then he turns back and says, “Alright, girls, we have to get home, start your homework and all that. Say bye.” Waliyha groans and he furrows his eyebrows in a confusion about the look that just crossed Liam’s face.

 

 

“Oi, do we have to! Can Liam come? He’s cute, can we keep him, Zay!” Safaa whines, tugging on his shirt and Liam laughs from beside him.

 

 

“Yeah Zayn, I’m cute.” He mocks and Zayn smothers a laugh, pushes Liam with his elbow softly before returning his attention to Safaa, biting back a smile to keep his face stern otherwise she wont listen to him.

 

 

“He’s not a dog, babe, can’t keep ‘im.”

 

 

“He’s got adorable puppy eyes, could’ve fooled me.” Waliyha says, her chin hooked over his shoulder.

 

 

“You’re both awful. Am I ganna have to keep an eye on you two around the boys now .” he teases, poking Waliyha in her side.

 

 

“I could say the same to you.” Waliyha snorts and he flushes, pushes her away and avoids Liam’s eyes at all cost.

 

 

“Okay, really, it’s time to go now.”

 

 

Safaa sighs and waves up at Liam, “Bye, Liam.”

 

 

“Bye, sweetie.” He says, smiling big and friendly and something tickles inside of Zayn.

 

 

“Bye, Liam, real shame you can’t come with.” Waliyha says, flipping her hair and throwing a hand around Zayn’s waist, squeezing his side. He scowls at her for a quick second before turning to Liam.

 

 

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you at school.” He says a bit regretful to leave but he hides the disappointment in his tone with a forced smile. He supposes it’s for the best that they leave now, anyway.

 

 

“Yeah.” Liam breathes, his face falling a little. “Bye, Zayn.”

 

 

“Bye.”

 

 

He takes Safaa’s hand and walks away, not looking back.

 

 

When they’ve created a safe distance Waliyha says, “You should be ashamed. You should have told me you had a hot boyfriend.” she scolds and Zayn chokes on air.

 

 

“B-boyfriend?” he repeats. “We’re only fr- I hardly know him.”

 

 

“Right.” She says, winking and he groans, shoves her arm off of him.

 

  
~

 

  
He left home early for this and it better go fast because he’s not going to be late for work.

 

 

In the distance he can make out a dark figure coming closer, a hood over the persons hair, head bowed and their hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy jacket. He stands by the tree, trying to appear cool and innocent but he’s so nervous, sweating threw his clothes and seriously second guessing himself for the fifth time in the last half hour.

 

 

But it’s to late now.

 

 

“150 pounds.” The stranger says, slipping him the money. “5 pills please.” The deeper, heavy voice says and Zayn peals off his sunglasses because he can’t see shit and puts them on top of his hood, looks up and the wind is swept from his lungs by what he sees.

 

 

“Zayn?”

 

 

_“Fuck.”_

 


	7. chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wow long time no see right? Yeah well, I have no way of apologizing because i seriously have no excuses. I'm just a big procrastinator, even with things i want to do.
> 
> But yeah, this chapter isn't much really. I'm working on the next chapter right now and i promise that one has a lot more drama, like holy shit man.
> 
> But okay, yeah enjoy and lemme know what you think!!

“Zayn? What are you- what the hell is going on?” Harry shrieks, his deep voice rising higher, pitchy as he stares at him incredulously. It would have been funny in any other situation.

 

 

Zayn fidgets, opens his mouth before snapping it shut and struggling to find the right words. “I could ask you the same thing.” he ends up muttering defensively, his eyes still wide and frightened like an animal caught in a trap.

 

 

“Are you- you're not the new seller Josh told me about last night, right?” He asks starting loudly but ending hushed, his mouth agape and his face disbelieving. When Zayn doesn’t reply right away Harry throws a hand over his eyes, muttering, “You’re shitting me.”

 

 

“Fuck.” Zayn just repeats because he’s still in shock and this is so _so_ bad.

 

 

“Fuck is right, _fuck_.” Harry agrees, nodding his head vigorously and Zayn shakes his own, runs a tired hand down his face and takes a deep breath. Of course this would happen, of bloody course because Zayn just has that kind of luck, it seems.

 

 

Panic starts coursing through his veins when a heavy silence falls between them, tense and strangling. Harry’s examining his face, his eyes hard to read with the cheap, dim lighting the street lamp by the road is providing. Zayn's mind is racing, all the possible outcomes of this coating his skin in a layer of sweat. He’s scared yes, and nervous and “I can explain this.” he finds himself insisting, holding his hands up in defense when the silence stretches on too long.

 

 

Harry nods quickly and breathes, “I hope so.”

 

 

Zayn's hands rub against the material of his pants and his mouth opens and closes as he tries to force words out of it but he doesn't know what to say or how to say it. Zayn can lie, he lies all the time, his life is just like one giant lie but right now he can't seem to come up with a single lie that will explain this. Make it all okay, acceptable maybe. “Well I-I just… see, I’m only…" he pauses, thinks and "wait, why do I have to explain? What about you? Drugs? Like, I knew you smoked weed and shit but pills, Harry?” And Zayn changes the subject, decides lecturing Harry is better then trying to explain why he is selling drugs.

 

 

(He may also be a bit concerned that Harry is buying pills anyhow but as if he’s going to admit that because that means caring and that’s exactly what he’s trying to avoid.)

 

 

“They aren’t for me-”

 

 

“Oh, lemme guess, holding them for a friend, then?” Zayn cuts off, his tone snippy and sarcastic. A fire burns in his stomach and anger spreading through his veins and he doesn’t understand why he feels so upset about Harry lying to him but he just is, okay?

 

 

“No, really, Zayn!” Harry shouts almost desperate and Zayn’s eyes bug and he glances around to check if Harry has drawn any attention but he notices they’re alone and Harry’s tone lightens to a hush. “My cousin, he’s staying with us and he’s like, really addicted to this stuff, heroin too but no one really knows and like, I don’t know, he has problems with his parents, he got kicked out of his house and he’s young, kind of slow and scrawny, can’t really protect himself so I get them for him.” Harry explains, quick and the words almost falling over each other, blending from how desperate he’s rushing everything out.

 

 

Zayn eyes him wearily, unsure if he should believe him. Harry’s lips are pursed, he wont exactly meet his eye and his fists are clenching and unclenching as if to release some nervous energy and when Zayn finally manages to catch his eye Harry breaks. “Okay, I might take a few pills here or there but it’s nothing big, Zayn! They’re really just to help me calm down, like, anxiety pills. People don't really know but I get bad anxiety sometimes and I have panic attacks. I really only take the pills though at parties because there's so many people and I get really claustrophobic and nervous and panicky or I take one before I a test because tests are just a gift from hell. I don't do heroin though, I can swear that one on my life.”

 

 

Harry finishes and his face is scrunched in worry and a bit of shame. He's waiting for Zayn to say something, anything, he can tell but Zayn can only stare, struck into silence and when he does try to speak, he can’t form words. It’s just kind of really surprising, the information Harry just dumped on him and he’s never been in this kind of situation, he doesn’t know how to respond. All he knows is he’s worried and he wishes he wasn’t.

 

 

“Are you upset?” Harry asks, small and feeble, creases and dips on his forehead. He looks so suddenly young and small, his shoulders tight from nerves and Zayn feels like a parent. He always feels like a parent. He always feels like a parent.

 

 

“Well I can’t say I’m thrilled.” Zayn answers, sighing deeply and wishing he didn’t feel so much like a disappointed father because he is nobody's goddamn father and Harry isn't a person he should be disappointed in. Harry is nothing to him therefore Zayn should feel nothing about him. Harry just looks like he’s standing in front of his parents and he’s waiting for his punishment for popping pills under their roof.

 

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t do it a lot, hardly ever and they’re not heavy drugs, I promise.”

 

 

“Are you sure?” Zayn finds himself asking because he's concerned and pissed at himself for caring.

 

 

“Yes and those,” he gestures to the tiny bottles of pills. “Are for my cousin, not me. I’m not taking any of those, I swear.” Zayn can see the sincerity in Harry’s features and the boy is practically begging with his eyes for Zayn to believe him.

 

 

“But what if you get caught? You shouldn’t be risking yourself for your cousin.” Zayn insist, a bit worried about Harry landing himself in a cell but he ignores it because worry and concern are things he shouldn’t feel for anyone but his sisters. Occasionally, himself. All the time, his mother.

 

 

“I kind of have too. My cousin, he’s just not in a good place right now and him going to jail is by far the worst thing to happen to him.”

 

 

“Being jailed is the worst thing to happen to anyone.”

 

 

“I know what I’m doing, Zayn. I’ll be fine.”

 

 

Zayn hesitates but eventually sighs and nods, accepts the answer because it isn’t any of his business in the first place. “Okay. Here.” He hands the five pills over and pockets the money Harry gave him before all of this. Harry stuffs the pills into a paper napkin and shoves them deep into his pocket. He pulls off his hood and runs his hand through his messy curls.

 

 

“So I believe it is now you're turn to explain.”

 

 

Zayn’s sucks in a breath, blindsided by the question since he thought he dodged it but he should have known better, should have known Harry wouldn’t let something so serious, so illegal, just go.

 

 

His heart thumps harder in his chest and he swallows thick as he shakes his head. Tugging on the strings of his jumper and staring on the floor, Zayn struggles, “Harry, I can’t… just, don’t worry about it, okay?”

 

 

Harry furrows his eyebrows deeply, a hint of betrayal on his face and it makes Zayn feel a bit guilty. He supposes he does owe Harry an explanation but he can’t give an explanation without having to go deeper into the story. And he’s not doing that. “But Zayn-”

 

 

"Harry, some people need to do this stuff for reasons others wont ever understand. Can we just leave it?"

 

 

Harry stares at him long and hard after he stops talking and it feels like forever before finally nodding. “Okay, I guess. But… are you going to keep on with this?”

 

 

“I don’t know.” Zayn admits, confused and distressed. “I kind of have too.” He says much quieter, more defeated because that sentence is just so real. He doesn’t have much of a choice. He just got 150 pounds for selling 5 pills, he made 150 pounds in one night, that’s enough to pay off half the light bill. And he can have another 150 if he calls Josh and requests another customer. He can pay off another bill, and another and another until they’re all gone and he’s a lot less stressed. Till maybe he can call out of work one night and get some fucking sleep at night.

 

 

He’s got to keep selling, is the point.

 

 

“This is so dangerous, Zayn, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, mate.” Harry adds, his eyes soft and concerned.

 

 

Zayn pinches his eyes, his fist folding over the edge of his sweater as he stares at the ground and mutters darkly, “You just don’t understand.”

 

 

“Well maybe if you tell me why you’re doing this then I will.”

 

 

Zayn bites his lip, shakes his head, sighing deeply and pressing his eyes closed for a few heavy seconds. “I have to go, Harry.” he looks up now, pleads with his eyes as he says, “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

 

 

Harry exhales, beat and a bit irritated. “Couldn’t if I wanted too. I’ll basically be ratting myself out in the process, yeah?”'

 

 

And Zayn just mutters something under his breath and turns around, slips his sunglasses into his pocket and walks away, not looking back because he’s ashamed and scared and he feels so pathetic.

 

  
~

 

  
It becomes a thing.

 

 

After that night, Zayn called Josh up and requested another costumer and Josh, with delight in his tone, rattled off names and locations. Turns out Josh is leaving for a week and he wants Zayn to take on his clients until he gets back. Zayn’s hesitant, unsure but agrees in the end because Josh promises him at least a thousand pounds (possibly more depending on the clients desires) by the end of the week. He can do so much with that money. Knock out some of these bills and get started on Christmas shopping possibly.

 

 

School is kind of awkward and forced, Harry comes up to him here and there but he’s tense and he fidgets. And Zayn, as discreetly as he can, searches out for any sign of drugs in Harry's system that might show in his actions. When Niall sat with him during lunch the day after though, he was loud and completely normal and when Liam talked to him in gym class he was cheerful and friendly and Zayn knew Harry kept his word about keeping this whole drug selling thing a secret. He’s grateful for that at least.

 

 

(Because deep down, everyday he worries he might loose them.)

 

 

Zayn’s possibly more exhausted lately due to the fact that instead of rushing home after work, he’s meeting strangers in the park or in an ally or behind trucks and dealing. He misses that extra hour of sleep and he’s literally living on the short naps he takes during class or sneaks at work.

 

 

He’s dizzy and weak and so depressed. His bones grind and his back stabs, his neck stiff, his feet feel ground to the bone and his legs feel as if they can give out the instant he even allows himself to paythe slightest attention to the pain and agony.

 

 

But it’s worth the money, he supposes.

  
~

  
“Zayn, can I please have a cookie!” Safaa whines for the third time in the past five minutes. She’s kneeling on the chair she dragged into the kitchen, leaning forward onto the counter as she watches Zayn cut carrots.

 

 

“After dinner, Saf, you know that.” He answers, gives the same answer he gave her previous.

 

 

“Pleeeease!” She stretches, throwing her arms out and falling into the counter dramatically. “I’m starved, just one! I promise I will still eat dinner, bubba, ple-”

 

 

“Safaa.” Zayn snaps, his tone stern and impatient as he slams the kitchen knife onto the counter. “I said no.” as soon as the words come out his mouth and he hears to whimper from Safaa's lips he head drops. He is just so fucking tired, his vision a bit blurry and the world spinning around him, his body sags and he just wants to drop to the floor, curl into a ball and cry. He’s irritated beyond belief and Safaa is not helping him out here.

 

 

Safaa stops talking immediately, her eyes dropping to the counter and her shoulders slumped. “Okay. Sorry.” she whispers and Zayn’s heart sinks. He doesn’t get loud with the girls, he gives them a stern word here or there but he never raises his voice, never yells or argues and he feels immensely guilty. He’s just tired, okay? So very tired.

 

 

“No, ‘m sorry, Saf. Shouldn’t have yelled. Have one cookie, okay?” And he knows it’s not saying much as an authority figure to give in so easily and apologize when being strict but he’s a bit of a push over and he’s not actually her father. He’s her brother and brothers let their little sisters get away with things, right? He’s not to sure, he hasn’t felt like a brother for years.

 

 

“Thanks, Zayn!” Safaa pipes, her mood completely shifted back to enthusiasm as she jumps off the wooden chair. “You’re the best!” and she scurries off to the cabinets, climbing the counters and digging through the cookie jar.

 

 

He sighs, moves on to pealing cabage.

 

 

There’s a knocking on the front door five minutes later and Zayn furrows his eyebrows, wondering who it could be before resting the knife on the counter, wiping his hands on his pants and heading to the front door, pulling it open and gasping in surprise.

 

 

“Mum?” he asks though it’s clearly his mum standing in the doorway smiling at him, he’s just confused as to why. It’s Thursday, she’s not suppose to be back until Saturday.

 

 

“You just going to stand there?” She teases, her tone light and silly and Zayn’s eyebrows scrunch in reaction. He slowly steps aside, watches his mother with a careful eye as she practically bounces into the house, the gold bangles on her wrists clinking together at the movement. And wait a bloody minute, those look new and… and real. Gold is expensive, is it not?

 

 

(Well expensive for them, at least.)

 

 

Tricia spins around, smiling freely and her eyes look about 5 years younger, happier and Zayn doesn’t understand what’s gotten into her. Not that he expects his mother to be miserable, to always have those deep worry lines and the round bags under her eyes but that’s the way it’s always been and right now? She looks cheerful and light, not a deep crease or colorful dips in sight.

 

 

“Why are you here?” Zayn asks and his mother tisks and pulls him into a hug.

 

 

“You act as if you’re not glad to see me.”

 

 

“Mum-”

 

 

“Alight, alright, I missed my lovely children, s’all so I took the rest of the week off. I don’t have to return to work till Sunday.” And Zayn tenses, his eyes widening as he pulls away from his mother to look her in the eye.

 

 

He keeps his hands on her shoulders though as he slowly repeats, “Took… the week off ?”

 

 

Tricia tilts her head, her smile ceasing to decrease though as she says, “Yes, love. Are you feeling alright? You look pale?” and her hands come up to his face, feeling around and thumbing along his sharp cheekbones.

 

 

Zayn ignores the question, doesn’t matter how he feels, he’s more concerned with the fact that she’s home. “But mum,” he starts. “Don’t you not get paid? We kind of need the money.”

 

 

His mothers eyes widen before she’s bouncing on her heels and tearing herself away from him, saying, “Oi! Speaking of which…” and she’s digging around in her purse, pulling out her wallet and opening it. “Here, for the heat and the water.” She says and hands him a wad of cash.

 

 

“What is this?” Zayn breathes, staring at the money folded in an elastic that his mother is trying to give him. He knows it’s probably wrong but his first thought is: _stolen_. This looks like way more money then his mum normally makes a week.

 

 

“Money? For the bills.” She tells him slowly. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright, honey?”

 

 

“How’d you get this much cash? And those bangles? You never had those before.” Zayn quizzes quickly, shock, confusion and stress getting the best of his normally calm and patient attitude. It’s just, this is a lot of money and he needs to know where his mother got it now.

 

 

His mother freezes, something flashing his her face before it becomes blank and she glances at the bangles around her wrist and back at him. “I just made a bit of extra at work, Zayn. ’s no big deal, okay?” And she’s lying, Zayn can tell by the higher pitch of her voice, the way she rubs her hands together unconsciously. His mother has never been the best of liars, either that or Zayn is really good at seeing through bullshit. But he’s not going to push, not quite sure if he exactly wants to know how she got that much money now. Perhaps it’s a conversation best had another time.

 

 

“Okay.” He responds slowly, still watching his mother with hesitation.

 

 

“Now take the money.” Tricia urges and Zayn takes the money reluctantly. It’s not as if he even needs the money though, he paid off this months bills already with the dealing money but he supposes he could just use this extra cash to get his sisters Christmas presents (it’s hardly November but it’s never to early for Christmas shopping, specially when extra money is a rare thing).

 

 

“Now where are my girls?” She asks with a spark of joy lighting in her eyes and Zayn watches as she scurries away, listens as his sisters react to their mother being home so soon and allows his worry to overcome everything else.

 

 

Because as of right now, he fears his mother might be up to something. It’s bad enough that he’s breaking laws (though it’s only temporary, his last deal is tomorrow) but now the possibility of his mother doing the same. They can’t both risk going to jail.

 

 

And this is just one more thing to add to his list of bullshit that stresses him out.

 

 

~

 

  
It’s 8:36 pm and he’s waiting for the bus, sitting on the cold hard metal bench, his arms wrapped around himself, his leg jiggling as he stares ahead. It’s dark outside and he leans his head back, his vision focusing on a star in the sky.

 

 

His eyes trail along, linking stars and trying to create something out of it but he finds that this possibly is more boring then just staring blankly at the stop sign across the street. His eyes are drooping and his muscles throb and if the bus doesn’t get here soon he might just pass out.

 

His mother tried to convince him to stay home tonight, to call out and watch movies and eat pizza with her and his sisters and though it sounded lovely and the offer was very tempting, Zayn declined because work and money are more important right now. Plus he still felt a bit uneasy around his mother knowing she is keeping secrets and he was sure he'd snap sometime during the night and demand to know what Tricia is keeping from him. He thinks going to work was the smarter option.

 

 

“Zayn?” someone says, catching his attention and he rips his eyes away from his focus, looks up to find Liam standing beside the bench. The air gets sucked out of his body, all words trapped in his throat. “What are you doing here?”

 

 

Zayn struggles for words, his mouth opening and closing before he finally squeezes out, “Waiting for the bus.” in a quiet, choked tone. He wants to slap his forehead because of course he’s waiting for the bus, he’s sure Liam knew this, was expecting a better explanation. He’s going to make a fool of himself, guaranteed.

 

 

“Really? Didn’t pick that up.” Liam says teasingly and Zayn flushes lightly, picks at the fabric of his jeans with shaky fingers.

 

 

Zayn doesn’t respond, doesn’t know what to say and Liam stands there looking at him. It makes Zayn shift self consciously. “Where you going? If you don’t mind me asking.” _I do mind! I can’t tell you but I want to and I mind a lot so yeah, don’t ask again._

 

 

“Um… uh, just visiting someone.” he lies before deciding that he would like to change the subject now and asks, “Why are you here?”

 

 

Liam looks away, his face turning into something along the lines of contemplative before he looks back and says, “Just taking a stroll.” and he says it with a slight shake in his voice and guarded eyes and Zayn knows he’s lying. But he’s not going to ask. He doesn’t care anyway. He doesn’t. Why should be care that Liam is lying to him, keeping secrets and such. They’re hardly acquaintances and Zayn lied himself so he just does not care.

 

 

(Except he really does care and he wants to know the truth. Like, now.)

 

 

When Zayn doesn’t respond Liam takes a seat, settling beside him on the bench and Zayn only tenses for a moment. Why is Liam even here? Talking to him? And where is the fucking bus?

 

 

“You didn’t go to Niall’s halloween party last weekend.” Liam speaks suddenly and if Zayn didn’t know better he’d say there was disappointment in his tone but as said, Zayn knows better, he’s sure his exhausted mind is just imagining more things. If hallucinating wasn’t enough already, now he’s hearing things. How pleasant. He’s finally loosing it.

 

 

Then he remembers a respond is in order. “No, I didn’t.” he confirms, his words a little shaky.

 

 

“Why not?”

 

 

Zayn scratches the short scruff on his jaw and shrugs, “Had other things to do.”

 

 

“You know,” Liam starts, sitting straighter and Zayn wonders for a moment if Liam is getting up to leave, finally realizing Zayn is a pretty big waste of time. He’s only a tiny bit disappointed when he’s wrong. “You are quite the mystery, Zayn Malik.” And there’s tease in his voice but also a hint of something else underneath, something heavy and Liam’s gaze burns his cheek.

 

_I'm just reserved, i'm not mysterious._

 

They sit there in silence and Zayn wants to claw his eyes out, pull his hair and demand to know why everyone is suddenly so interested in being around him. He wants to demand that Liam and everyone else leave him alone because he has enough shit to stress about and worry about and he doesn’t need this pathetic crush he has on Liam growing. It’s a bitch enough to deal with.

 

 

Crushes and friendships are too big of a distraction and he doesn't need, nor want, them.

 

 

He fights it for a good few seconds before a yawn breaks loose and he wipes his watery eyes.

 

 

“Tired?” Liam observes.

 

 

Zayn peaks at him from the corner of his eye and shrugs. “A little.” he answers quietly, fighting off another threatening yawn.

 

 

“You’re tired a lot.” Liam says and Zayn snaps his head quickly in his direction, surprised and suddenly defensive (and also a little dizzy). Liam continues, “Niall tells me you sleep a lot in class too. Do you sleep at night?” And he asks in a nonchalant way but Zayn can pick out the discreet genuine curiosity underneath.

 

 

His throat is dry and he fumbles for an answer. He can say yes, lie through his bloody teeth and his brain is screaming at him to do so but the ache in his chest and the pressure in his eyes begs him to tell the truth and pray that Liam will let him lay his head on his lap or crawl onto his lap and sleep the night away, forgetting work and reality.

 

 

And just when he’s about to confess, completely give in because he’s weak and drained and desperate, the bus pulls up. His savior, it seems the universe is on his side tonight. Or maybe the universe is still out to get him.

 

 

Zayn’s eyes flicker between the opening bus doors and Liam’s waiting face before he mutters, “Like a baby.” and stands up, only wobbling a little bit at first and enters the bus, paying and not looking back once.

 

 

(He peaks out the window when the bus moves and watches Liam stand, a disappointed look on his face as he walks away.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well damn sorry about Harry guys...


	8. chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooof well here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I wasn't going to post it today but it's a snow day so you know, what the hell, might as well.
> 
> Oh and i guess i could say happy valentines day so... happy valentines day. Have fun, do things and use protection.

It’s Friday and his last deal and Zayn couldn’t be more relived. Josh insisted on him doing few more and Zayn thought about it but his nerves are frantic and his mind sends him down the guilt trip every hour, those little angels and devils resting on his shoulders and both lecturing him and encouraging him. Yeah, he doesn’t know if he has it in himself to continue this anymore but he’s still conflicted.

 

 

He’s hidden in an ally-Josh says this guy is a bit paranoid- smoking a fag while he waits for his last customer. He’s due at work in a little over a half an hour so he has a bit of time but he still hopes this bloke gets here soon.

 

 

He drags the sole of his boots along the concrete, kicks a pebble and pulls the cigarette from between his lips, huffing rings and stubbing it out on the bricks once it’s down to the nub. His hands still shake with nerves and the cold is nipping unmercifully at his nose and he’s about to call up Josh and demand he find out where this guy is but then he spots a dark figure approaching him and he slips his mobile back into his sweater pocket. He rolls his neck as he pushes off the brick wall, his back and knees cracking in retaliation. He winces but then masks the pain.

 

 

As the person gets closer, Zayn fidgets. There’s something about the way this guy walks, the way his fist noticeably clench in the distance, that sets Zayn on edge but he shrugs it off, buries it deep inside because only five minutes and he can leave. This isn’t the first customer that has unsettled Zayn and Josh wouldn't give him someone he couldn't handle. He doesn't think.

 

 

“How many?” He asks as soon as the taller, broader man stops in front of him. Zayn finds it hard to look the guy in the eye, his face is stone and his eyes are cold but he keeps eye contact, not wanting to appear nervous or weak and snakes the tiny bottle of pills from his pocket.

 

 

“All of them.” The man says, his voice incredibly deep and horribly hoarse, as if he just finished chain-smoking pack after pack. And Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise by his request. All of them. Well, Zayn can do that, he just hopes the guy has the correct amount of money.

 

 

“Thirty pills.” Zayn states dumbly. “Um, that’ll be 900 pounds, then.” he tells the man bewildered but a bit excited and a whole lot shocked to have 900 pounds in his hands. It’s hard to believe and he doesn’t quite know what he’d do with the money yet, most likely take the girls shopping and put away most for next months bills, but he’s just anxious to have the money already.

 

 

So much money.

 

 

Zayn's twisting the cap but then the man suddenly snatches the bottle of pills from his hands and Zayn stares for a second, watches dumbly as the man begins to walk away. Then reality catches up with him quickly and he’s calling out, “Hey! Wait!” And the man is turning around with a threatening look in his eyes that Zayn only cowards at for a short second. “You can’t-you have to pay me.” he fumbles, unsure of how to deal with this. He hasn’t been in this situation yet, he has no clue what he's even suppose to say.

 

 

“I don’t have to pay you shit.” The man growls before turning around again but Zayn quickly, without much thought, grabs the mans arm, opening his mouth to try and reason with him but the man spins around to fast and the next thing Zayn knows his wrist is being twisted painfully and unmercifully. He whimpers, tries to twist with his wrist to lessen the pain but the guy only tightens his hold and shoves him against the brick wall, Zayn’s head colliding roughly with the solid brick. He cries out and his mouth is covered with a hand.

 

 

“It’s free.” The man grinds out, fire and hatred in his eyes and Zayn wants to cry. His body already feels enough agony daily and now this man is bending and twisting his wrist and shoving him hard into the bricks. He’s bruising and cracking and his bones might be shattering.

 

 

But Zayn wants _-scratch-_ deserves that money and he’s not going to let a little pain stop him. No matter how much it hurts. “900 pounds.” he spits out and gasps, his mouth flying open in a silent scream when the mans fist buries in his stomach with such force that it wipes all air from his lungs. He gasps, flounders and the man tosses him to the ground, his face scrapping against the cement ground.

 

 

“Piece of shit, don’t know when to give up.” The man growls, delivers a harsh kick to Zayn’s ribs then his legs and spits on the ground beside him before walking off, leaving Zayn curled on the floor, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

 

 

He’s not sure how long he lays there, shocked and throbbing, harsh ringing in his ears but by the time he can take full breathes, he’s sure he’s late for work. He sits up, tries to use his hands to push himself up but his left wrist cracks and pulses, screams and he cries out before biting his lip hard and lifting it quickly. He tries to hold it but that does nothing but make it worse. Tears brim his eyes from the pain and he examines his injury, finds his wrist swollen and coloring, long finger prints circled around it in a developing bruise.

 

 

Zayn stares long and hard, wondering if that truly happened before rage seeps deep into his body, roots itself under his skin and into his bones, sprouting fiercly like angry weeds. He fumbles with fishing his phone from his pocket and blindly dials Josh’s number with to much pressure.

 

 

Four rings, “Zayn? What’s up, mate! Made the deal?”

 

 

Zayn seethes, grips the phone tighter, “Yeah I made the fucking deal, if that’s how you want to word it!”

 

 

Josh is silent for a few good seconds and that only adds fuel to the fire in Zayn’s stomach. “What do you mean?” he asks, confused.

 

 

“Bloody fuck, Josh! The man robbed me! He took the whole goddamn bottle, possibly broke my wrist and ran off!” He shrieks into the phone, not caring about how loud he is or if he draws any attention, just focused on his angry adrenaline.

 

 

“What?” Josh gasps.

 

 

“I said-”

 

 

“I know what you said.” Josh cuts off and Zayn has to bite down on his lip to keep back from snapping. He wants to reach through the mobile and throttle Josh right now. “What did this guy look like?”

 

 

Zayn rolls his eyes so hard he’s sure they might just roll out of their sockets because how is this even important? “Bulky, tall, bald, white.”

 

 

There’s a long pause before Josh speaks, panic evident in his tone. “Shit, fuck, shit Zayn! That’s not my guy. Fuck, that’s not Danny, that’s not my guy!”

 

 

Zayn scrunches his face, stands with trouble, wobbling and leaning heavily against the bricks. There’s so many different types of pain pulsing through his body and he feels as if his ankles might snap in half under his light weight. “What?” he breathes.

 

 

“I mean, that’s not my guy, Zayn. That’s not Danny.” He sounds frantic and panicked and there’s things clanking and banging in the background.

 

 

Zayn pales. “Not your guy.” He repeats slowly. “Then… then who was that?”

 

 

“I dunno, man. Fuck, where are you?”

 

 

“Still in the fucking ally I was suppose to meet Danny in.”

 

 

“Get out of there, Zayn. He could come back.” And that sends a jolt of fear through Zayn’s body that he wont admit too.

 

 

“I can barely stand, Josh.” Zayn admits, tries to push away from the wall only to stumble and fall to his knees with a hiss as they scrap the ground. Years of force and straining suddenly overwhelm him and he tries to fight with it, it’s just really difficult being strong all the time and he's feeling so exhausted, right down to the bones.

 

 

“I can call an ambulance.” Josh supplies and Zayn shakes his head quickly, mutters a ‘no’ over the phone because that's the last place he needs to be right now.

 

 

“It’s over Josh, I can’t do this. This… This can’t happen again-fuck, I have people who need me, responsibilities, I can’t risk this happening again.” he confesses, his voice trembling and his eyes brimming with tears.

 

 

“Understandable, mate. Damn, this sucks.”

 

 

And Zayn is a beat away from sobbing so he croaks out, “I’ll text you later.” and ends the call, buries the phone in his pocket and hangs his head low, uses one hand in front of him to balance himself out. A sob vibrates in his throat, no longer trying to fight it away as trails of tears flow down his cheeks.

 

 

Zayn’s a good guy, is he not? He works his body numb, his skin thin. He’s responsible, he doesn’t bully, he doesn’t stir up trouble, he worries and cares and stresses. He’s hollow and sad, trapped, drowning but he still continues through this depression. He does everything he can for his girls and yet shit like this happens.

 

 

He thinks all that’s missing right now in his bad luck streak is for a car to skid by and splash mud all over him or a stray dog to piss on his leg.

 

 

Zayn’s body trembles and his arm wobbles, too weak to hold himself up anymore so he falls back onto his bum, leans his back onto the brick and brings his legs close to his chest, buries his face in his forearms, thinking about how shitty life has been for him. It’s probably not the best place to set his mind but his thoughts are to persistent and demanding to ignore at this point.

 

 

He tries and he tries, does everything he can to support his family, bring in the money and provide. He scraps himself down to the bone everyday yet tries to wear layers and layers of skin to keep himself strong enough to keep going while dying on the inside and he’s just so fucking tired. If his life is just going to be one constant struggle after struggle then what’s the point? He’s alive but he’s not living, no, he’s suffering and hurting and so lonely, he is. Nothing he does is good enough and he’s worried this’ll be his life for as long as he lives.

 

 

Thinking of living another year this way physically pains him.

 

 

Zayn’s sobbing shamelessly, his whole body shaking and he wishes he could just blink his eyes and it will all be over. But he knows it’s impossible so he keeps them shut tight, so tight blotches of color and little stars play on the back of his eyelids and he’s convinced his eyeballs might just pop from the pressure he's applying if he doesn’t relent soon.

 

 

His own weeps fill his ears and he doesn’t hear the scrape of sneakers against the pavement or the sharp intake of breath, doesn’t notice the presence of another body until they speak. “Jesus, mate, are you okay?” he hears. He freezes before peaking over his arm to spot who the stranger is and shrinks when he recognizes the face.

 

 

“Zayn?” Liam gasps in surprise and Zayn purses his lips, traps his next sob behind them. He nearly chokes on it and his body shakes a little harder.

 

 

He watches as Liam sinks to the ground beside him, a panicked look on his face that has Zayn curling into himself even further. “Oh god, Zayn, what’s- why are you out here? Why are you crying?”

 

 

Zayn hiccups on a threatening sob and buries the next deep in his throat, presses his lips tighter together and avoids eye contact. Just, _fuck_ , out of all the people, why did it have to be Liam to find him here? This is embarrassing and shameful and Zayn wants to melt into the crevices in the cement below him.

 

 

“Your cheek… it's bleeding.” Liam breathes, his eyes focused on the scrape along Zayn’s cheek and he reaches out, as if to touch it but Zayn recoils automatically, curses himself in his mind when he sees the quick flash of hurt that passes through Liam’s face. “That needs to be cleaned. It could get infected.” he says.

 

 

Zayn wants to laugh bitterly, ask how that even matters at this point but he doesn’t, just wipes his eyes and looks away. “Liam.” He croaks, his throat dry and sore. “Go.”

 

 

“Go?” Liam repeats incredulously. “I’m not going anywhere, Zayn.” And he says it with determination and confusion, as if he doesn’t understand how Zayn could request such a thing but he’s going to make it known that he’s not filling that request. “I just found you alone in an empty ally at 10 at night sobbing. Plus you’re bleeding. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

A weird feeling tingles at the tips of Zayn’s fingers at Liam's words and it travel to his chest, his heart jumping as if that weird feeling sparked a little life to it but it dulls away just as fast and his heart withers again, beats slowly and without a meaning because Liam is just a good person, he’s kind and caring and he’d come over to check on a stranger so trustingly, willing to help. He’s not treating Zayn any more special then he’d treat a random stranger and Zayn has to remind himself of that.

 

 

“Please.” Zayn whispers, his voice cracking and laced with a pathetic desperation. He just really doesn’t want to be seen like this, specially by Liam. “Leave.” He tries again. It’s weak and feeble, his voice barely audible. His eyes are too heavy and he just wants to go to sleep right now, he doesn’t care if it’s in an abandoned ally on the freezing cement floor, he wants to sleep and forget. Sleep and forget.

 

 

“Like hell I will. You’re my friend, Zayn and I’m not just gonna leave you here.” _You’re my friend, Zayn,_  repeats in Zayn’s mind and he wants to cringe and slap the words away from his ears. _Not friends, not acquaintances, not anything_. “C’mon, you can come to my house. My mums a nurse.”

 

 

Zayn wipes his eyes as discreetly as he can before looking up. He blinks at Liam before shaking his head. “I can’t.” he says. “I have to-I have somewhere to be.” _I need to get to work now or I’ll get in trouble then I’ll get fired and the girls will starve and be moved into a foster home and they’re the reason I’m still alive, they're the only reason._

 

 

“Please just let my mum fix you up. I can’t let you go anywhere like this, I need to make sure you’re okay.” Liam pleads and Zayn wants to spit out _why do you care_ and push Liam away before stomping off but there are too many flaws in that plan so he remains silent, glaring at the glued together bricks across from him. “Zayn, please, your hand… it looks bad.”

 

 

And now Zayn is harshly reminded of the stabbing pain in his wrist. He sucks in a short breath, squeezes his eyes shut but doesn’t let the pain inflict him to much, doesn’t show any further reactions to it. When he opens his eyes he avoids looking Liam in his, to afraid his hurt might be evident in his own. After a few moments of trying to steady his breathing, he chances a quick glance at Liam, ready to convince the boy that he is fine and he needs to go but Liam is looking at him with worry. His eyebrows are scrunched and his eyes look sad and concerned and there's a deep frown on his lips. It feels weird, being looked at like that and it makes Zayn want to run away even more but it also softens a part of him to a point where he considers giving in.

 

 

"I'm fine." He tries and he internally cringes at how uncertain and unconvincing that sounded.

 

"Zayn." Liam says, his tone stern and Zayn sighs, no longer having the will to fight any further.

 

 

 “I don’t think I can get up.” Zayn admits. His legs feel like jello, weak and boneless yet aching and gnawing at the same time.

 

 

Liam looks contemplating before his face turns gingerly and he suggest in a careful tone, “I could carry you.”

 

 

Zayn’s thankful it’s dark out here because there’s no doubt his face is crimson at the thought of Liam carrying him bridal. And then maybe throwing him in a bed and- Nope, he will not encourage that thought any further. “No, no you don’t have too.” he says maybe a little to quickly. “Just-just give me a minute.”

 

 

Liam nods and Zayn spends the next two minutes trying to persuade his legs to work with him. He breathes slowly and begs his body to build some strength soon because this will only get more uncomfortable if he takes any longer. “Okay.” he says suddenly. “I think I’m good now.” Liam stands and waits as Zayn presses a good hand into the wall and uses it to support himself. He feels his knees pop and his face contorts into a look of pain that he quickly hides away. Finally standing, Zayn wants to cry. He wants to collapse onto the floor and never get up again. He wants to remove his limbs from his body because he’s sure that would hurt less.

 

 

“You look like you’re in a lot of pain, Zayn. I could carry you, my car isn’t far.” Liam tells him, his face concerned but Zayn shakes his head, leans against the brick.

 

 

“I’m fine.” he insists. “Maybe you can just… help me out, though.” Zayn hates how pathetic he must look and sound. So messed and weak. His guard feels down, he feels too open and he doesn’t like how he must look right now. Zayn likes to appear full and strong and right now Liam must think he’s frail and pitiful.

 

 

Liam’s eyes widen before he nods quickly and rushes forward to help him. Zayn wants to cringe and push him away now but then Liam touches his arm and Zayn almost jumps at the spark of electricity that hurtles through his body but he contains himself and wills his cheeks to cool and fade back to their original color, for the love of god, please.

 

 

“Just-” Liam starts, slips an arm around his waist and now Zayn can’t focus on the pain anymore, he’s to conscious of every part of Liam’s body that comes in contact with his. “Put your arm around my shoulders.” he instructs and Zayn listens. He does as Liam told him but he feels so self conscious, so focused on his every movement, his own breathing and their proximity and he wants to pull away but move even closer all at the same time.

 

 

They start walking and Zayn has to keep his eyes closed, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he tries to disregard the pain. It’s not even all pain from the man who jumped him, he’s just so worn down and sore and it’s like all the years of restless working is suddenly catching up with him, making his body scream for relief. Of all the moments too.

 

 

They’re halfway out the ally, moving at snails pace when Liam speaks up. “What happen?” He asks and he sounds careful and cautious, as if he’s expecting Zayn to snap at him or something. And Zayn wonders how he’d come to such assumptions.

 

 

Zayn struggles with an answer for a few seconds, “It’s a long story.” he says with a sigh, hoping Liam will drop it there.

 

 

And he does, sort of. He said, “Well I have all night, if you choose to tell me.” and then they stopped in front of a black Cadillac and Zayn suddenly felt so drab and shabby with his ratty beanie and tattered jeans. He stood frozen, feeling out of place and uncomfortable until Liam nudged him gently and Zayn was rattled back to reality. He looked hesitantly up at Liam, watched as he reached for the handle and opened the door and Zayn stepped in with struggle and Liam’s help.  
  


 

While Liam walks around the car to the drivers side, Zayn drops his gaze to his hand which is much more swollen then before and he grimaces at the discoloration. He tries to move it but the hurt is unbearable and he whimpers, sets his hand back onto his lap carefully and tries to blink back the stinging tears from fiddling with his wrist to much.

 

 

Liam starts the car and Zayn tries to get comfortable but he feels so out of place in this shiny, new car. He props his elbow on the side door and rests his head in it though, deciding he might as well try to appear comfortable.

 

 

His eyes fight with him for sleep and with the low hum of the engine and Liam’s reassuring presence, Zayn decides it might be okay if he gives in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously have a problem. All my fics, for the most part, contain violence and i think i may have to sit down and have a serious chat with myself.
> 
> Well, lemme know what you thought anyway :)


	9. chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody!! I'm on my winter vacation so i managed to write up another chapter. Honestly, i'm just trying to avoid my ecology project but shhhh, lets avoid that confession that too.
> 
> Aaaaanyway, lets all agree that Zayn Malik looked incredible and sexy and beautiful and stunning and perfect yesterday at the brit awards. 
> 
> Okay, now that we have all agreed on that...
> 
> you can go on now and read and i hope you all like it and if you don't, sorry to disappoint.

His shoulder is being shook gently but Zayn refuses to budge. He’s warm and tired and though the material his cheek is pressed into feels odd and unfamiliar, he doesn’t want to wake up. Not now, not ever truthfully. He stirs a little, gets a little more comfortable and tries to ignore the incessant shove at his arm.

 

 

“Zayn, _Zayn_ wake up.” is being whispered loudly as if the person is still trying to wake him up softly but loosing a bit of their patience. Zayn’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion before it dawns on him where exactly he is and what happen and why the texture against his cheek smells of leather. And blood, that’s blood running down his cheek, it’s not his imagination.

 

 

His eyes fling open and he sits up maybe a little to fast because now all the pain is harshly brought back to his awareness and it has intensified. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to lessen the pain with his will. It doesn’t work.

 

 

“Easy. C’mon, Zayn, we’re here.” Liam tells him and Zayn finally looks at him, tries to keep his face straight to mask the immense amount of pain he is feeling. It’s just, _fuck_ , his wrist is pulsing so fiercely, he wants to detach the damn thing from his body because he’s pretty convinced that would hurt less.

 

 

“Yeah.” Zayn sighs. “Okay.” he takes a deep breath and pushes out of the car, his legs only wobbling slightly once he’s on both feet. He’s using about every ounce of energy he has left, or maybe it’s his will not to look foolish that is giving his body the strength to actually corporate with him. He’s not sure but either way he’s managing to stand straight and not fall to pieces right in front of Liam.

 

 

“Oh,” Liam breathes, his eyes widening and realization donning on him. “Lemme help you.” and he’s moving closer, his movements a bit jerky and too quick. Zayn steps back and puts a hand out, stopping Liam from crossing the rest of the distance separating them.

 

 

“No, no ‘m good. I don’t-I’m good.” he tries but his throat is insanely dry which makes his voice come out a bit croaked and weak.

 

 

“Sure you are." Liam replies and Zayn is not fond of the sliver of sarcasm in his tone. "Just let me help.” he repeats and after a long moment Zayn finally nods his head reluctantly. Liam puts an arm around his waist, recreates the position they where in back in the ally when Liam helped him to the car. Zayn holds back a grimace, not wanting to offend Liam or anything but he just hates feeling so helpless and dependant. Zayn is more then positive he can walk on his own even if he’s struggling to stand upright. He is more then positive that if Liam had never showed up and insisted on bringing him to his house, that Zayn could have went to work and did his job thoroughly without a break and proceeded to go to school after his shift.

 

 

Basically, he doesn’t need Liam’s help and it’s not quite welcomed but he’s not going to shove him away because he doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. (And he may like the way Liam’s fingers press into his hip, so secure and grounding, his hold is. But that’s a secret to keep, even from himself.)

 

 

Finally turning around to face the house, Zayn’s sucks in a sharp breath, his steps faltering as his eyes travel along the building in front of him. Liam’s house is _huge_. Not exactly a mansion but certainly larger then the average family house. It could quite possibly swallow whole Zayn’s home, plus two or three more. There are definitely more then just one layer of the house as well. There’s a garden along the front and a large front patio and grand, glass doors and the grass of the front yard (which is long and wide) is freshly trimmed and Zayn almost snickers at the thought of the Payne’s having their own landscaper.

 

 

Zayn allows Liam to lead him to the house simply because he’s a little busy taking everything in, the wide, wall length windows covered by what looks like thick, maroon colored drapes and the fine designs etched into the walls and railings along the steps that lead to the doors.

 

 

He’s so distracted he almost forgets the pain stabbing all throughout his wrist. Almost.

 

 

“My dad owns a big record company, you know, signing artists and all that.” Liam tells him, releasing him and digging in his front pocket for what Zayn can only guess is his keys.

 

 

“Really?” Zayn asks, trying to downplay how impressed and intrigued he really is. It’s just, a small part of Zayn had always wondered about the music business, always enjoyed listening and singing and watching. Working in or even owning a record label was always something he thought would be incredible. But art? Music could hardly compare.

 

 

“Yeah,” Liam says as he jams his key in the lock, twisting and pulling out once they hear the click. “He wants me to take over one day. Typical right? The son taking over the family business or whatever.” Liam doesn’t look or sound bitter but he doesn’t look pleased or interested either and Zayn wonders how Liam could ever be against being in the music business. But yeah, pretty cliché, Zayn supposes.

 

 

Liam opens one of the doors before coming back for Zayn. “C’mon. My mum is probably asleep but I can wake her.” Zayn goes to object and Liam must realize because he’s quickly adding, “She wont mind, really, this is important.”

 

 

They walk inside, or more like stumble on Zayn’s behalf, and Liam shuts the door behind them. Zayn takes the opportunity to observe the foyer and it’s everything but also not everything he was expecting. He knew it’d be over the top and luxurious but he had imagined spiral staircases (not that the two curved staircases on either side aren’t over the top) and grand chandeliers. The floor is marble though and he’s almost scared he might slip from how clean and polished it is. It's bright and reeks of cleaning supplies and expensive scents that Zayn could never afford. The high ceilings with the artistic details littering it is something he had expected and also something he admires. It’s not exactly his type of art, he's more interested in abstract and sculpting and drawing but it’s definitely something Zayn can appreciate.

 

 

Liam comes back and Zayn internally rolls his eyes. He’s honestly not feeling so weak right now. He thinks he can walk on his own and he’s about to tell Liam that but then he puts an arm around him again and he’s so close, his right side pressing into Zayn’s left and words get trapped behind Zayn’s pursed lips. “Lets just go the living room.”

 

 

Zayn almost scuffs at the modern vintage décor of the living room but he holds it back and lets himself be placed on the white leather couch. There’s a obnoxiously large flat screen across from him and Zayn shuffles uncomfortable at how weird and _poor_ he feels in this house.

 

 

“I’ll go wake my mum.” Liam announces and just as he turns around a women, blonde and short in comparison to Liam, stumbles into the living room, a bottle of something in her hands and pearls around her neck.

 

 

“Liam, love, you’re home.” she breaths and there’s a sudden strong look of guilt all over her face as she freezes in front of her son.

 

 

Liam has a frown on his face, his eyes a little hard as he eyes the still half full bottle in his mothers hand. Zayn feels awkward and so _so_ out of place. “You’re drinking.” he deadpans, his voice quiet and obviously displeased.

 

 

His mothers glances at the bottle and back at Liam, her mouth opening to give what Zayn guesses is an explanation before she snaps it shut and places the bottle on the shelf besides them. “Your father isn’t home.”

 

 

Something else hardens on Liam’s face and Zayn can make out the tension in his shoulders and back and Zayn wants nothing more then to cross the room and sooth it away with maybe a good rub. He’s given his mother back rubs on tough days, he’s been told he’s good at them and he's sure he can make Liam feel so much better. “I need your help.”

 

 

“What is it?” Mrs. Payne’s (Zayn can only assume) tone turns from guilt to worry in a heart beat, her face quickly sobering up.

 

 

Liam turns, gestures to Zayn as he tells her, “This is my friend, Zayn.” Mrs. Payne peaks around Liam, her eyes quickly widening before she steps around her son and crosses the room, stopping in front of Zayn and examining him thoroughly. Zayn itches under the gaze, face heating up a little as he looks at everything but her. He doesn't like the attention, he's not use to it and it feels really weird.

 

 

“He’s hurt.” She realizes. “Oi, your hand, does it hurt?” She’s crouching now, reaching to take his hand in hers but she pulls back immediately, noticing his flinch. “Liam, get the first aid kit, please.” she turns back as Liam leaves the room and looks at his face, bringing a hand to his jaw and turning his face slightly to take in the cut on his cheek.

 

 

“I’m Mrs. Payne but you can call me Karen.”

 

 

Zayn nods but he doesn’t quite agree with her decision. He’d feel much more comfortable calling her Mrs. Payne. “I’m Zayn.”

 

 

“Is there more I should be concerned with, Zayn or is this everything?” She asks and Zayn finally takes notice to the how silk and warm her voice is, her accent very much like Liam’s and it’s familiar and kind of comforting.

 

 

“Um,” he hums before pausing to think. He knows there is more, nothing serious, nothing to worry about and he’s debating on if he should tell her that. “Not really, I might have a few bruises but it’s-it’s nothing.”

 

 

Her eyes squint before they skim the rest of his body as if to find where those bruises are. “Where?”

 

 

“My chest, maybe my arm.”

“I’ve got it.” Liam comes into the living room, a red box with a white plus sign in the center of it in his hand. Karen takes it, placing it on the glass table and opening it, pulling out pads and alcohol wipes.

 

 

“Liam, will you wait in your room, please?”

 

 

Liam’s eyebrows furrow deeply as he tries to argue but his mother fixes him with a look that seems to shut Liam up immediately and he huffs, walking off to the foyer again and making a show of his annoyance by stomping up the stairs. Zayn would laugh at how childish he's acting if it didn’t hurt to even breath. Plus, that’s probably not very appropriate right now.

 

 

“What happen?” Karen asks as soon as they hear the door to Liam’s room close. Her voice is laced with concerned and a knowing look graces her face but Zayn highly doubts she knows what actually happened.

 

 

“I uh- I just…” He struggles, his mouth dry and no words coming out. He fumbles for a lie but he’s never been good at lying directly to someone’s face under pressure, specially a face so soft and kind, so trust-inducing.

 

 

“You don’t deserve this.” She says as she continues to examine his injuries.

 

 

“What?” Zayn asks, his face scrunched in confusion.

 

 

“This.” She repeats, glancing at his swollen wrist again. “If it is what I think, you don’t deserve it.”

 

 

Karen says it with such passion and honesty and Zayn is honestly genuinely lost (And a bit uncomfortable from the concern) for a few moments before it donned on him and his mouth falls open. “No, no it’s-it’s not like that Mrs. Payne.” He rushes out. “You have it all wrong.”

 

 

She dabs his cheek with an alcohol wipe and Zayn flinches at the pain but it’s nothing to bad. “You can tell me, dear.”

 

 

Zayn pulls back a little, far enough to look her in the eye as her hand drops. “It’s not like that. Not at all.”

 

 

She nods, a small smile forming on her lips as she goes back to cleaning his wounds. “Good. What is it then?”

 

 

Zayn sighs, closes his eyes and answers, “It’s… complicated.”

 

 

Karen stands before plopping carefully onto the glass coffee table behind him. She looks him softly in the eye as she asks, “Is it dangerous?” And she seems genuinely concerned. It’s odd, the feeling it gives Zayn. Her look of concern matches Liam’s in so many ways, the realness to it and it clenches Zayn’s chest.

 

 

He’ll blame it on his exhaustion when he nods and tells her, “Yes.” but then he continues with, “But it’s over now, it’s over.”

 

 

Karen places a gentle hand on his knee, squeezing before standing up and bringing the first aid kit with her to the empty spot beside Zayn on the couch.

 

 

“Your hand,” She starts, changing the topic of conversation and Zayn is so thankful for that. “I think it’s only a fracture but I advice that you go to the hospital for an x-ray and a professional diagnosis.”

 

 

“But you’re a nurse.”

 

 

“I am but I’m no doctor.”

 

 

Zayn worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he thinks. He doesn’t want to go to a hospital, he can’t go to a hospital. “If it’s only a fracture-”

 

 

“That’s only my guess-”

 

 

“-Can’t you just put it in a brace or something?”

 

 

Karen gives him a sympathetic look as she shakes her head. “A brace is more for sprains, love.”

 

 

Zayn sighs and gives Karen a pleading look as he asks, “Please, I really can’t get a cast, I just _can’t_.” _I have so much things to do, a cast is the last thing I need._

 

 

Karen’s face is contemplating before she finally sighs and nods her head. “Very well, I’ll wrap it in gauze but I still say you need to get checked at the hospital. This can get worse.” And then she’s digging through the first aid kit and pulling out a beige colored gauze from deep inside. It’s silent as she unravels it, starts wrapping Zayn’s wrist with layers and Zayn has to bite deep into his lip to keep back from crying out, it just hurts so _much_.

 

 

Finally wrapped up, Karen tells him she’ll get ice and walks off. She returns moments later with an ice pack wrapped in paper towels and gives it to him to help the swelling go down. He presses it to his wrist with as little pressure as he can as she spend the next few minutes cleaning the dried blood on the back of his head and making small talk. Or it starts out that way.

 

 

"How old are you?"

 

 

"17."

 

 

"How long have you known Liam?"

 

 

Zayn's lips tilt downwards as he internally counts the months that he has actually spoken to Liam. It's hardly been three months but he's been going to the same school as him for almost four years. It's not as if he paid the lad much attention those four years though, he's been much to busy and focused and tired to actually waste time yearning and fawning over someone. But that doesn't mean he hadn't glanced from time to time and wondered. "A little over three months." he answers.

 

 

"He's mentioned you a few times." Karen tells him suddenly and the air is sucked from his lungs. He tenses and his mouth flounders as his mind goes into a frenzy of thoughts. He doesn't know which one to settle on, which question to ask because there are so many but he has to answer so he says,

 

 

"Really?" It's croaked, his voice cracking in the middle and he flushes a deeper color then he already was.

 

 

"Your name is Zayn correct?"

 

 

"Yes."

 

 

"Then yeah, I'm pretty certain."

 

 

Zayn tries to respond, to ask what Liam has said, when he said it, where he said it and how exactly he sounded when he said it but then Karen is cutting him off with another comment. "Liam's never been very good with his words but he wasn't lying when he said your eyelashes are incredible." she giggles when Zayn flushes a deeper crimson and now Zayn is suddenly so much more aware of the weight of the long curved strains of hairs attached to his eyelids. "And your cheekbones? Phenomenal."

 

 

"He-he said that?" His words are choked and hardly above a whisper and Karen smirks at him but her eyes are still so soft so Zayn doesn't feel very intimidated.

 

 

"Yes, he did." Karen confirms. "And a lot more but I fear I have embarrassed Liam enough, if I say anymore I'm sure he will never speak to me again." she laughs softly at that, her eyes crinkling and laugh lines appearing around her mouth. It makes her look  younger yet somehow a bit older at the same time.

 

 

Zayn desperately wants to disagree and beg for her to tell him everything Liam has said about him but he can't do that because a bigger portion of him doesn't want to know. That would just complicate things further for him.

 

 

“Do I need to call your mother?” Karen asks as she puts away the supplies she used.

 

 

Zayn’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine.”

 

 

“Well, if you’re going to be sleeping here tonight, don’t you think she should be aware?”

 

 

Zayn chokes on a breath and shakes his head faster, only intensifying the previous small thud in his temples. “I’m-no I... I can’t-I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

 

 

Karen doesn’t look very pleased at the words, furrowing her freshly groomed eyebrows at him, her red lips tilting downwards in a small frown. “It’s late, Zayn and because I like you, I don’t feel quite comfortable with you going out at this time. And to be quite frank, dear, you look exhausted.” she says it with sympathy and it makes Zayn’s stomach churn.

 

 

He tries to argue, as respectfully and patient as he can but as soon as he opens his mouth another voice is echoing through the large house.

 

 

“Mum!” It’s Liam, of course it’s Liam, who else would it be? “Can I come down now?”

 

 

Zayn smiles softly at how bored and childish Liam sounds, clearly unimpressed by his mothers demands that he wait elsewhere while she worked on Zayn.

 

 

“Yes you can, Liam!” She calls back, fondness in her tone and then Zayn hears shoes slapping the steps and Liam appears in the living room moments later, his eyes slowly scanning over Zayn as if to check if all damage has been properly taken care of to his liking and Zayn’s breathes come out a little shaky under the pinned gaze.

 

 

“Love,” Karen starts and Liam's gaze lingers a few moments longer before he pulls his eyes away to look at his mother. “Will you show Zayn to the guest room, I think it’s best if he stays here the night.”

 

 

Liam immediately nods his head and starts walking towards Zayn and since Zayn already knows what Liam's plans are he quickly stands himself, trying to tell Liam without speaking that he is fully capable of walking with his own two feet now. It’s a bit difficult, his legs just clearly deciding today was just a great day to finally give out underneath him but he manages to stand fully straight and step towards Liam himself. Liam looks at him in surprise for a few good seconds before he nods his head and turns, mumbling, “Follow me.”

 

 

“Goodnight boys, sleep well!” Karen calls after them as they leave the living room. Liam calls his own goodnight and Zayn waves a bit awkwardly and thanks her.

 

 

Zayn has to grip the railing tightly to hold himself up as he follows Liam up the staircase and in the hallway he has nothing to grip so presses a hand to the wall as he walks, praying Liam wont look back at him and notice his struggle.

 

 

“Right here.” Liam says and reaches for the doorknob. He twists it, opens the door fully and Zayn grabs at the door frame as discreetly as he can as he steps into the room.

 

 

It’s big, really big with posters of Marvel and DC superheroes lining the walls. There’s a large bed in the center of the left wall and there’s a wide, tall television across from it hanging on the wall, shelves beside it with game councils and video games stacked. The floor is carpeted beige and there’s a beige couch that looks used and inviting pressed against the right side of the wall with another shelf of books and movies beside it. There’s a large window across from the door and a door next to the bed that Zayn guesses must be the closet.

 

 

“One hell of a guest room you got here, mate.” Zayn says, impressed and interesting because _wow_ , books and superheroes and the bed looks incredible.

 

 

“This is my room.”


	10. chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there everybody!! I'm finally updating yes i know!! Uuuuummm... not sure what else to say. Sorry for the wait and i didn't reread so there's probably some spelling mistakes and what not. If i reread it then i probably wouldn't have posted today. But yeah, so enjoy and lemme no what you think!!

Zayn’s chest clenches, his heart stuttering behind his ribs and all color draining from his face at Liam’s words. Liam’s room, It makes sense, though, why the room looks, feels so homey and lived in. But he doesn’t understand why exactly they’re in Liam’s room right now and it’s giving him anxiety, all the possible reasons. He gulps and repeats with shaky hands, “Your room.”

 

“Yeah, um, I was just-can we talk?” Liam asks, sounding and looking both nervous but dedicated to going through with whatever it is going on his mind.

 

“Talk.” Zayn repeats slowly. He glances around the room and back at Liam and says, “We are talking.” because he’s trying to avoid the questions he knows now will be shot his way. He really, _really_ does not want to talk about this and he supposes he can just make that known right now but he might offend or upset Liam and he really doesn’t want to do that specially since Liam is being to nice to him.

 

But Liam doesn’t look amused, he looks serious, like he has a purpose here and he’s not about to let Zayn dance around it and Zayn gulps again around the thick lump forming in his throat. “You know what I mean.” he says it a bit stronger, his eyebrows furrowing in an unimpressed way.

 

Zayn sighs, realizing he’s not going to avoid this with his little comments, and crosses his arms, looks away and says, “Liam, I don’t think so.”

 

“But why? I mean, I’m… I’m worried.” Liam tell him and when Zayn chances a glance Liam is looking at him almost desperately and Zayn wants to scrub that look off his face because it’s guilt inducing and when Liam looks at him like that, it almost makes Zayn think it’s safe to tell him. Almost but not quite.

 

“Stop.” he demands, quiet but firm enough to make it clear that this is just something he is not willing to talk about and he’s not going to give in.

 

“Zayn-”

 

“Liam, stop it.”

 

“Why?” Liam tests, his face almost outraged. “Why can’t I be worried? I have reasons to be, don’t I?”

 

Zayn’s growing a bit agitated and a lot defensive and he doesn’t mean to but he snaps. “No, no you can’t worry about me because you don’t know anything, you don’t know me.” he’s frustrated and he wants to tear his hair out of his head and stomp out the door. But he tightens his arms around himself instead, his breathing picking up a bit, shallow and quick breaths.

 

And Liam seems to be growing just as impatient because he’s snapping and moving his arms as he talks, “Because you make it so freaking hard.” and he says it as if it’s a confession, as if this is something he’s been wanting to express for a long time but has kept it buried.

 

And that’s like a punch into reality and Zayn feels guilty, coming to a quick conclusion that maybe all his stubbornness has been affecting more then just himself but his reasons justify his actions, no? “Liam,” Zayn breathes, just feeling suddenly so tired and worn out from the whole day, just ready to crawl in bed and maybe sleep away the rest of his life, christ knows he could use the rest. Except he kind of really needs to find a way out of here and go to work with the hopes of not being fired on the spot for being so late. “Please, _stop_.”

 

“Just talk to me.” Liam pleads but this only frustrates Zayn further because Liam talks as if they are close like that, as if he knows things are difficult for Zayn right now and he has the right to know what’s going on but he doesn’t, he doesn’t even know his middle name or his birthday month, what makes Liam think he deserves to know his life story? And Zayn is so irritated that he blurts that out, “And who the hell are you to even ask me to do that? We hardly know each other, Liam, I don’t need to tell you shit.” He would feel bad for snapping like that at Liam if he wasn't so riled up.

 

Liam pauses, a look of surprise on his face that quickly changes and he looks at Zayn with a sparkle in his eye. “I think that’s the most honest, voluntary feeling I’ve gotten from you since we met.”

 

“What?” That catches Zayn of guard.

 

“Every time you so much as show a little hint of feeling you always hide it away, say you’re fine and like, leave but this right now, you’re angry and you’re not hiding it and it’s… it’s different, it’s nice.” Liam smiling, actually _smiling_ at him and it’s soft and satisfied and Zayn just does not fucking understand this boy in front of him. He just yelled at Liam and the damn guy is smiling at him talking all this bullshit about feelings. “Just sucks that I had to push it out of you.”

 

Zayn doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t. He stands there with a hard look on his face and tries to come up with a good enough excuse to leave.

 

“Hey, I have a bunch of movies, what do you say we watch some Marvel and you can tell me what happen tonight in the morning.” _don’t count on it_ , Zayn thinks but after a few beats, nods his head anyway because he doesn’t get many chances, hardly any ever, to just sit down and watch Spiderman or Iron Man or Captain America or all and he loves Marvel. But this voice in his mind keeps nagging at him about work work and more work. He pretends he can't hear it.

 

“What do you think? Wanna watch something?” Liam offers again and well, he can’t really deny that. But shit, he really should.

 

“What do you have?” Zayn finds himself asking and he wants to slap himself because moments ago he was boiling with anger and frustration, ready to curse and stomp out the house but now his body has cooled ten folds and he’s back to weak, submissive Zayn who will give into whatever Liam wants from him.

 

Liam wags his eyebrows and turns, heading off to one of the shelves beside the couch and skimming the movies. Zayn watches but tries to appear as if he is not watching because that would be weird, would it not? Whatever. He decides to busy himself with observing the room further in hopes it’ll distract him from the muscles on Liam’s back.

 

The bed just looks pretty incredible right now and Zayn wants to run to it and flop down, curl up and sleep forever. He imagines it’s like clouds and when he falls into it his head will sink into the pillows and the duvet will puff up around him and the mattress will conform to his shape like those expensive beds that come with a remote and Zayn might start to cry soon.

 

“Ah, how do you feel about Batman or X-men?” Liam stands, holding both movie cases in his hands and waving them around a little bit. Zayn smiles and shrugs because both are great and he’ll be content with either.

 

“You choose.”

 

Liam looks at both movie cases with a thoughtful look before tossing X-men to the couch and holding up Batman with a child-like grin. “Batman’s my favorite.” And then he’s crossing the room and setting the CD in the xbox and setting everything up. Zayn watches from his place, not sure what to do or where to stand and even if he knew where to go he’s not sure if he can exactly move his legs without falling right over. He only just got somewhat settled standing.

 

“Well, c’mon, mate. Movies starting.” Liam calls as he drops to the bed and Zayn wants to scream. But he doesn’t, of course. He takes a second, says a quick prayer in his mind for the strength to cross the room and hesitantly takes a step. The second the bottom of his shoe re-touches the floor a stabbing pain shoots from the balls of his feet throughout his legs and he has to bite his lip to keep back the threatening sounds of pain. His body vibrates and stings in the worse way possible and he just wishes he could detach the damn things or just drop dead. Preferably not in Liam’s home, though.

 

He doesn’t know how but somehow he manages to make it to the bed without tipping over and embarrassing himself. And without revealing the fact that he feels like his legs are being stabbed by a million tiny pin needles repeatedly because he’s good at keeping a stoic face.

 

The movie is just beginning and Zayn takes a hesitant seat on the edge of the bed, his light weight sinking slightly into the mattress and he sighs quietly at the relief on his legs and feet. He feels awfully awkward and self-conscious sitting at the end like this though until his back is being poked gently and he turns to find Liam patting the spot beside him. “Come up higher, surely you aren’t comfortable down there like that.”

 

Zayn’s mouth goes dry and he nods slowly, feeling incredibly dim for some reason. He kicks off his shoes though and moves to the spot beside Liam, settling there with his arms tight around his waist and his body stiff and tense. Saying he’s nervous is an understatement, he’s sure he’s never felt so out of place in his life and that is truly saying something.

 

“I’m going to make some popcorn and get some soda, yeah?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Liam gets off the bed, his lips moving along with the words of the movie and Zayn has to bite back a smile and limit the growth of fondness creeping it’s way into his chest.

 

When Liam disappears from the room Zayn finally takes a long, deep breath that’s been sitting tight in his chest since he step foot in this house. He’s overwhelmed by the days events and he’s so exhausted physically and mentally. It’s to much and Liam’s bed feels like heaven underneath him. He knows he shouldn’t because falling asleep is the worst possible thing to happen right now but the bloody bed is just begging him to fall back, it’s tempting him and he’s to tired to fight it. So Zayn falls back slowly and breathes out deeply because it’s incredible. The bed is exactly what he expected and more.

 

He’s watching the screen but everything it’s showing is out of focus because his eyes are blurring and burning and blinking closed. The last thing Zayn hears is the distant beeping of a microwave echoing through the large, empty house and a voice in his head telling him how big of an idiot he is.

~

Waking up feels like the greatest disappointment he’s every faced. It feels like cold water splashing in your face or like spilling grape soda all over your favorite white shirt.

 

He wakes up and it’s difficult to breath for a few too many beats that almost have him panicking and his body is a mixture of relief and bone crushing exhaustion. His muscles are throbbing and sore to the touch and his limbs feel heavy, like there are two ton weights tied to his wrist and ankles, pulling him down. The effects of yesterday and years prior just dropping heavy and thick on his body like a steel wall. He thought maybe sleeping in such an amazing bed would feel like sweet heaven and relief but it feels as if he was beat with baseball bats until he fell unconscious. So, to sum it up, he feels like absolute shit.

 

But on the bright side, his eyes aren’t as heavy and he feels much more awake then he has in years. He feels a bit at ease, like maybe he can stay awake for the rest of the day.

 

Blinking to get the sleep out of his eyes, Zayn sits up as slowly as he can (noticing that the quilt is now on top of him instead of under) and looks around the room. Before he was so focused on the pain running through his bones but now that he’s more awake he feels a substantial amount of guilt and embarrassment and anger at himself because he fell asleep, he did exactly what he didn’t want to do and he fells asleep in Liam’s fucking bed. And speaking of Liam, he’s nowhere to be seen.

 

Zayn can only assume it’s morning because there are heavy drapes over the windows that block out any amount of lighting that can come from the sun into the room so it’s pretty dark in the room. Zayn is very much tempted to fall back and sleep again but he needs to leave and forget this whole 24 hours ever happened.

 

Which isn’t going to happen apparently because Liam’s door is opening slowly, a stream of light making it’s way into the room as the door widens.

 

His heart begins to race at the thought of facing Liam so early and shameful in the morning but the body that enters the room is very much female.  
  


“Oi, Zayn, did I wake you?” Mrs. Payne asks with a sheepish smile. She looks far to awake for the morning time with her hair done up in a fancy bun and a classy knee high dress.

 

“No, no.” He answers quickly, not wanting her to feel any guilt. “I just woke up.”

 

“Oi, good, I just wanted to bring you a toothbrush and a change of clothes.” Mrs. Payne says as she flicks on the light switch and walks deeper into the room. She stops at the bed and lays the clothing on the blanket, smoothing them out. “These have grown to small for Liam so I assumed they might fit you well enough.”

 

Zayn eyes the grey sweat pants and blue t shirt and smiles up at Mrs. Payne with forced happiness. Sure, he very much appreciates that she thought of him like this but those are Liam’s clothes and he doesn’t know how Liam will feel about Zayn wearing his clothes without his knowledge and approval.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No problem, dear.”

 

“Um, how did you know I was in here?” Zayn asks curiously, trying his best not to come across rude about it.

 

“Liam told me this morning that you fell asleep watching movies in his room so he slept in the guest room.” Zayn feels pretty terrible about that now. "Don't worry though, he's not upset."

 

“He’s awake?”

 

“Yeah, he’s downstairs in the gym. I honestly don’t know how that boy can wake up so early every morning just to work out but I don’t even question anymore.” In the gym. They have their own gym and Liam is currently in there lifting weights and probably sweating and shirtless. Oh, goodness, this is probably not the best thing to be thinking about with Mrs. Payne in the room.

 

“Oh, um, okay.”

 

“Well, anyways, you can go back to sleep if you want but if not just wash up and come downstairs for some breakfast.” And with that Mrs. Payne is gone, closing the door behind her and leaving Zayn alone with his decision. Like hell he can sleep now though with the guilt in full force.

 

Changing proves a struggle with one hand and noodle weak bones but he manages and the clothes feel soft and warm and perfect even though the joggers hang a bit loosely around his hips and the shirt could be a size smaller. But it smells faintly of Liam and with that Zayn shoves on his beanie (it must have fallen off while he was asleep) and leaves the room and scans the halls for what he thinks might be the bathroom. The door he picks first is exactly what he was searching for and he chooses to ignore the expensive décor of the bathroom just so he wont feel worse about himself.

 

He takes a piss and brushes his teeth, washes his hands and face with water and a bit of soap and leaves downstairs. The kitchen is grand and fancy, cleaner then anything Zayn has ever seen. He can smell the cleaning products lingering in the air. The counters are granite and the appliances are stainless steal and there are two ovens in a brick wall. The colors are a warm brown and a deep maroon and black and it’s a pretty gorgeous kitchen. He imagines his mother would fall in love with this kitchen and he swears one day he will make enough money to buy something ten times better then this for his mum.

 

He sidles up one of the stools at the obnoxiously large counter, the cushion of the seat surprisingly comfortable on his bum considering the rest of the seat is metal. He crosses his arms over the countertop and watches as Mrs. Payne works over the stove.

 

He clears his throat a bit awkwardly and Mrs. Payne turns abruptly, a look of surprise on her face that quickly changes to a pleasant smile.

 

“Thought you might have gone back to bed.” She says. “Also, I called the school and informed them that you and Liam will be absent today. I hope your mother wont mind.” She adds and the air gets knocked from Zayn’s lungs because _shit_ , school. He forgot all about that. This is so bad, he’s already skipped out on work last night and now school. Fuck.

 

“I’m making pancakes, if you want some.” She tells him before her line of focus drops to the swollen flesh of Zayn’s wrist. He looks down and winces because under the gauze his normally thin wrist is swelled up almost the size of a baseball and looking at it, the pain comes rushing back ten folds and he has to focus on his breathing in order to feel less faint.

 

“Oi, gosh that needs some ice.” Mrs. Payne breathes out as she turns swiftly around and rushes to the large freezer. She pulls out an ice pack, wraps it in a cloth and gives it to Zayn and he hisses as he gently places the thing over his injury. “I’ll get some Advil for the pain, stay right here.”

 

“Oi thank you but I-” Zayn tries to deny because really he should be getting home now but Mrs. Payne is gone and he’s cut off by an echo of a door clicking shut and a voice calling, “Mum! I need new gloves, mine are getting all torn.” And then Liam is entering the kitchen only clad in black socks, red and white basketball shorts and red gloves that he’s pulling off and examining. Zayn’s pretty sure all of his vital organs have stopped functioning properly at the sight of Liam’s chest and biceps glossy and in all their glory.

 

Liam looks up, his eyebrows raising slightly before he places the gloves on the countertop and smiles softly at Zayn. “You’re awake.” he mentions as he moves around the island and takes the pan off the stove top. It’s empty and there are plenty of pancakes and bacon stacked together on one plate on the counter beside it.

 

“Yeah uh,” Zayn pauses, bites the edge of his lip as he tries to find a way to word this properly. “Sorry about um, you know, falling asleep in your room like that last night.” In the end he kind of rushes the words out, deciding droning them and thinking to much will just result in an embarrassing amount of babbling and stuttering.

 

Liam raids the cabinets as Zayn apologizes which makes it a bit less embarrassing. He pulls out three plates and three cups and shrugs as he says, “No, don’t apologize, it’s alright.”

 

“It was inappropriate of me.” Zayn insists, staring at the dark granite of the counter. He feels guilty for kicking Liam out his own room like that and a huge part of him is just expecting Liam to be upset and yell at him or something.

 

He doesn’t know how to respond when Liam doesn’t yell at him.

 

“Zayn,” Liam says and turns around, his face straight but his eyes soft. “It’s okay, I’m not upset.”

 

Zayn flicks his eyes away again and nods his head, still wanting to push Liam until he yells at him because it’s wrong what Zayn did but he doesn’t because he’d probably cry if Liam was mad at him.

 

It’s quiet and Zayn busies himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched but the gaze feels heavy and when he risks looking up, Liam is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes focused on him. It makes Zayn gulp and his leg jump up and down with nerves.

 

“Those are my clothes.” Zayn snaps his head back up, an explanation and a huge apology ready at the tip of his tongue but the words get clogged in his throat, almost causing him to choke on his own saliva because Liam has a small smile on his lips and he doesn’t know what to make of that.

 

He still tries to apologize, though. “I uh- sorry, your mum-she insisted and- I wasn’t- I’m sorry.” he’s a jumbled mess and his cheeks are fierce shade of red and he’s embarrassed beyond belief.

 

Liam chuckles, shakes his head and says, “Stop apologizing so much.”

 

“Sorry.” it’s an instinct and Zayn doesn’t realize the apology came out his mouth till it was already past his lips.

 

“And now you’re apologizing for apologizing?” Liam’s smiling, just a small tilt of his lips really and his eyes don’t crinkle as much at the corners.

 

Zayn just shrugs, biting back a “sorry” for saying sorry so much. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“You can tell me how many pancakes you want.” Liam offers before he’s turning around and stabbing a pancake with a fork and dropping it on a glass, decorated plate that if tilted the right way, could blind Zayn from how clean it is.

 

“I’m fine, I should be leaving, actually.” He doesn’t want to be a bother. He already burdened Liam so much last night and he slept in his bed, took his clothes and now he’s going to eat his food?

 

Liam turns around swiftly, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his lips. He opens his mouth to speak but he’s cut off by a voice shouting, “Liam! Where is the bloody Advil!” Mrs. Payne sounds irritated and frustrated and great, Zayn is the one causing her so much distress, because she’s getting him fucking medicine.

 

“Check the medicine cabinet in my bathroom!” Liam calls back before pinning Zayn with a disproving stare.

 

“You can’t leave until you eat, Zayn, at least.”

 

Zayn sighs, runs a hand across his jaw and says, “Liam, I’ll be fine, I’ll eat at home. I just really need to go.”

 

Liam’s face falls and Zayn’s gut wrenches because he caused that look and he’s causing so much stress in this house, so many issues from just being here for a few hours and he just really needs to leave before he causes anymore damage, get back to his mother and sisters and continue his life as if all of this never really happened.

 

 _Fuck,_  his mother, she must be worried sick.

 

“Zayn, please. After… after last night, I just- please just don’t go yet, so I can be sure you’re okay.” Liam sounds almost desperate and plenty worried but Zayn doesn’t understand any of it. He doesn’t understand why Liam helped him last night, why he’s worried about him so suddenly now, why he’s being so generous. It’s unsettling because if Liam thinks they’re friends, then he’s bloody wrong and Zayn just really fucking needs to leave because he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong around Liam, doesn’t belong in Liam’s world, in Niall’s or Harry’s or Louis’. He should have never let any of them this close to him, he should have never let Liam take him here last night. They are not friends, Zayn doesn’t need friends, they’re just a distraction from his responsibilities. And that was proven this past 24 hours with him missing work and school all because of Liam. All because he’s to weak to deny Liam.

 

And now he’s stressing himself out, causing himself all kinds of distress. He presses his right palm into his eye, closes both and breathes out a long exhale before dropping his hand and looking Liam in the eye, feeling like he might just cry from how sad and like a burden he feels. “I just want to go home.”

 

He hates how childlike and broken he sounds, his voice strained and nothing but a hushed, defeated whisper, hardly heard. But Liam looks as if he heard, his frown tipping further down in the corners and his head nodding slowly.

 

"Yeah, alright. But can-" he pauses, purses his lips before he pulls out his phone from practically nowhere and types quickly onto the screen. "My driver will take you home." Liam tells him with a more stern tone as he places his phone on the counter.

 

Zayn's eyes widen before he's pushing himself off the stool, trying not to stumble when his legs wobble. "No, no that's not-that's not necessary. I can walk."

 

Liam scuffs, gives Zayn this incredulous look. "Like hell you are, sorry Z but I'm not taking no as an answer for this one."

 

Zayn pinches his eyes in a challenging way. "And what if I do say no? You'll drag me into the car?" he tests.

 

"Just might. By your hair if I have too." he has a teasing tone but something in his eyes tells Zayn that Liam would actually do it just for Zayn's own safety and he hates how that tugs at his heart in a sweet way.

 

Zayn crosses his arms and looks away with a scowl, muttering "Fine."

 

When Zayn glances back up Liam is smiling again and walking around the counter, enveloping Zayn into a sudden hug that has the breathe trapping in his throat and a small sound of surprise escaping his lips. He's tense for a second but only a second before forcing himself to stop being so nervous and wrapped his arms around Liam's naked waist, returning the hug timidly.

 

Liam's bare skin is rubbing against Zayn's revealed arms and he silently wishes he was shirtless as well so he could see how Liam's chest feels pressed up against his own but that thought is an unwelcomed one so he fiercely ignores it. Instead, he breathes out deeply, lets hide guard down slowly and lets his body become a bit more slack against Liam's, finally welcoming the hug and loving the way it feels genuine and the way Liam's arms are tight around him but not to tight, a good tight that makes him feel grounded and hid from the world.

 

He tightens his own arms a bit and drops his forehead against Liam's shoulder, Liam's cheek coming to rest against the top of his head and Zayn just breathes, internally fights the urge to cry because affection isn't something he's gotten from anyone other then Safaa, sometimes his mum and on the occasion, Waliyha, in a long time and he forgot how nice it feels. How nice it is to feel like someone cares about you other then the people who are suppose too.

 

"What did I miss?" Mrs. Payne's voice suddenly echoes through the large kitchen and has Zayn and Liam pulling away quickly, Zayn winces a bit at the sudden movement that sent pain through his body. "Oi, don't let me stop you, I can just drop the medicine on the counter and go if you'd like." her tone is innocent but her smirk tells another story and now they're both blushing and Mrs. Payne is cackling. She pats Zayn on the good cheek and gets on her tippy toes to press a fond kiss to Liam's forehead before handing Zayn the medicine and a glass of water.

 

"Take these two and in four to six hours the other two." Mrs. Payne instructs before rounding the counter and picking her pancakes.

 

Zayn takes the pills as told and pockets the other two and when he's done he stands a bit awkwardly in place, unsure of where to go because Liam's driver is supposedly taking him home but the driver is no where in sight.

 

Liam's mouth is opening, as if to finally say something that might put an end to this torturous awkwardness when the driver finally decides to make her appearance, walking into the kitchen with a profession stride in heels and a tight bun on her head, smiling friendly at them.

 

"Mandy? What are you doing here, hun?" Mrs. Payne asks after swallowing a bite of her pancake. 

 

"She's taking Zayn home." Liam answers.

 

Mrs. Payne frowns before dabbing her mouth clean with a white rag and standing from her chair, pulling Zayn in for a soft hug and that Zayn was completely unprepared for. She pulls back and smiles at him sweetly. "It was lovely meeting you Zayn and I hope you come over again soon, okay?" Zayn puts together his nicest smile and nods even though he doesn't plan on ever coming back. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" she puts emphasis on her words, a furrow in her brow and a hint of concern in her tone, as if Zayn is going to get himself into this kind of situation again. He's not, for now he's playing it safe, getting his money the way he always has even if it's a lot less effective.

 

"Yeah, okay. And thank you, by the way, Mrs. Payne."

 

"Karen." She corrects with a sweet smile before squeezing his arm and walking back to her seat. "Oi, and tell your mother I said hello and sorry for stealing her son. I hope I didn't cause to much worry, just couldn't have you going back out there like that, specially at night."

 

Zayn smiles a bit tight but nods his head and says, "I will." he turns back to Liam and looks at him shyly, biting the inside of his cheek from nerves.

 

"I'll walk you to the door." Liam offers and because Zayn doesn't have much of a choice he lets Liam follow him to the front door with Mandy, the driver, walking respectfully in front of them.

 

At the door Mandy leaves to the car, Zayn's guess, and Liam and himself stand in front of each other for a few heavy beats, both unsure of what to say after the hug they shared. The hug that was far to close to be friendly. The hug Zayn wants to feel himself wrapped up in again. Please. Shit.

 

"Uh, Zayn?" Liam speaks up and Zayn finally looks at him, in his wide brown eyes that are far to kind, far to hopeful for someone like Zayn.

 

Zayn gulps under the powerful gaze and strangles out a "Yes."

 

Liam bites his lip, breathes through his nose before saying with a sad expression, "Please be careful, don't-I can't... I can't see you like that again, it was scary. I don't know, I just- when I saw you I forgot everything, what I was going, what I was thinking, I just had to make sure you were okay, I had make it better. I was so worried, I never seen someone so miserable."

 

Zayn's heart races and his mouth dries, his body hot from the confession. He has a tight knot in his stomach, something yanking hard at his heart and he's developing a headache. Liam's words should probably make him feel cared for, loved in a way but instead they scare him and they worry him because Liam shouldn't be feeling this way towards him. Liam should not worry for him, should not be scared for him. He's giving Liam the wrong impression, letting him believe that they are friends and Zayn is falling off the track he set himself on because if he lets himself go there, it really does feel good when Liam looks at him like that.

 

"I'm sorry." Zayn finds himself apologizing but he's not sure who exactly he's apologizing too. Him for getting himself into this situation and giving him the extra stresses or to Liam for causing so much trouble and for leading him on, letting him believe they can be friends when in reality that's the last thing either of them need. Each other.

 

"No don't." Liam says. "Don't say sorry, you have nothing to be sorry about. Just, take care of yourself, please. I'll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?"

 

"Yeah and uh, thank you... for everything." Zayn says quickly before reaching for the doorknob and opening the door. He's halfway out when his hand is gripped and squeezed softly before being let go. He looks at Liam in shock, finds the boy already walking away and he gulps and tries to ignore the way his hand tingles all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideas and input is always welcomed!!


	11. chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo uuuum.... no excuses. I've took a long leap of absence because i'm a complete jerk but here's a chapter finally. It's kind of almost pointless in my opinion but it's kind of more of a fill in i guess. There's more drama to come because i can't help it so um... yeah, read and enjoy i guess. Sorry.
> 
> Also another thing, i didn't do re-read cuz im a lazy fuck so any and every spelling mistake and all that is completely my own fault.

Zayn’s mum is a wined up ball of worry and panic, pacing in the kitchen with a phone gripped in her hand and her thumb nail bit between her teeth. He winces a little, already knowing he’s in trouble before he steps quietly into the kitchen with his hands behind his back and his head down. When his mother doesn’t notice him he clears his throat and she spins around, letting out a surprised sound.

 

 

“Zayn!” She shouts before rushing over and hugging him then pushing him away just as quick and slapping his arm. “You git, where were you!” her words aren’t venomous so Zayn doesn’t take her insult to heart and he knows she’s just worried.

 

 

Zayn stutters for an answer, he hadn’t thought about that but it doesn’t look as if he has to answer yet because his mum is rambling off again. “I get a call from your job saying you never showed up last night and then your school tells me a lady kept you home from school and I’m obviously not that lady so who was this lady, Zayn!” she’s full on yelling now, standing closer to him with her eyes wide.

 

 

Zayn tries to answer, to explain that it’s all just a misunderstanding but his mum is keeps yelling. “And why do you have a cut on your cheek? Zayn, please, I don’t need this right now, explain what happen before I freak out!”

 

 

“Mum, mum, relax.” Zayn soothes, bringing his good hand to her shoulder as a touch of comfort. “I missed my bus to work last night and a friend happen to be around so I stood at his house for the night and his mother was the one who called the school.”

 

 

His mother nods her head slowly, looking a bit calmer, her breathing coming out less jagged but she still looks lost. “What about the cut on your cheek?”

 

 

“Tripped on the steps and scrapped my cheek.” he pauses for a minute before continuing with, “I also kind of hurt my hand so-”

 

 

He lifts his injured hand and brings it into her line of view, watching as she takes in a sharp breath and stares at his swollen hand.

 

 

“Jesus, Zayn! This happened from tripping on steps?”

 

 

He shrugs. “There was a lot, I kind of tumbled.”

 

 

She chuckles lightly before bringing a careful hand to his injury and examining it. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

 

 

“No, no I’ll be fine, just a sprain.” He’s quick to deny. His mum sighs before releasing his hand and smiling softly up at him. “Well you go get some rest, take a shower and I’ll make you something to eat.”

 

 

Zayn feels a bit awful that he takes the rest of the day, up until it’s time to work, as a resting day. His mum picks his sisters up from school, feeds them, does their homework for them and does everything a mother is suppose to do for her kids. And she makes him food and chats with him a bit about school and takes it upon herself to trim his shaggy hair.

 

 

He’s more then a little hesitant about letting his mother near his head with scissors but she insist that it’ll come out great, throwing in about how she cuts Waliyha and Safaa’s hair all the time and Zayn surrendered. And she was right, his mum is almost an expert with those scissors and she gets his hair back down to something more tamable, leaving enough length but not to the point where it falls over his eyes and pokes out all puffy and soft.

 

 

Getting off the couch to ready himself for work is disappointing, he’d much rather stay right there watching TV with Safaa cuddled on his lap, his mother by his side and Waliyha stretched out on the floor but he has things to do, money to make and people to take care of. It’s his job as the man of the house. It’s what his father asked him to do and he will not let him down, not now when he’s gone through so much already so keep his promise.

 

 

~

 

 

“Oh Zaynie!” comes a voice, echoing off the walls of the laundry room. Zayn sighs, already knowing who the voice belongs too before an arm is slung over his shoulders. “Now tell me monkey, why weren’t you and Payno in school today?” he says it with an unnecessary suggestive tone and an all knowing smirk even though there’s nothing to know. Not the kind of stuff Louis is thinking at least.

 

 

“Monkey?” he questions instead as he continues to sort the clothing by whites and colors and jeans.

 

 

“Yes but that’s besides the point, what I’m going for here is a grand confession and inappropriate details that will haunt my dreams.”

 

 

Zayn snorts and shrugs off Louis’ arm because it was limiting his movement. Louis takes no offense and simply plops himself atop the washing machine, kicking his legs out in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re going on about Louis, it was just a strange coincidence.”

 

 

“That’s not what Liam told me.” Louis clicks and Zayn stops in his tracks, whipping his head around quickly to look at Louis.

 

 

“What did he tell you?” he tries to keep the nerves out of his voice but the words still sound a bit to uneven to him.

 

 

“That you were at his house.”

 

 

“And…” he pushes.

 

 

“That you two totally shagged in his parents bed.”

 

 

“What!” Zayn shrieks and Louis almost falls off the washer, he bursts into laughter so hard.

 

 

“I-I’m kidding!” he laughs and Zayn scowls and throws a pair of panties at Louis’ head. The boy squeaks and slaps them away quickly, hissing something like, “ _Vial things_.”

 

 

“You’re an arsehole but really, what did he tell you.”

 

 

Louis shrugs after he resettles himself better on the washer after almost tipping off. “Just that you were at his house but I can pick up the unsaid secrets.”

 

 

“Nothing happened.”

 

 

“Sure, nothing happened.” Louis says with a wink that frustrates Zayn.

 

 

“I’m serious.”

 

 

“Yes and Harry and I have never had amazing swing sex in an empty kids park before.” Louis replies with thick sarcasm and Zayn grimaces because ew, he did not need to know that. “See, that was sarcasm because I don’t believe you.”

 

 

“So why are you at the shelter today.” Zayn quickly changes the topic because he’s not quite in the mood to deal with a stubborn Louis that thinks he knows everything when in fact he couldn’t be more wrong.

 

 

Louis gives a long exaggerated groan and rolls his eyes before going off on a rant about his father and how he was drinking and talking shit and how Louis hates to be around anyone drunk let alone his own father and left because apparently the man has a tendency to become mentally abusive when he’s that off.

 

 

“Honestly, the only reason I even go back home at this point is because when my dad is not being a total douche, he’s pretty cool and gives me money all the time and doesn’t rat when I smoke weed in the house unlike other dads. Like, you know how some dads can be, yeah?”

 

 

Zayn only shrugs, mumbles a quiet “Sure” because no, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t have a dad so he has no idea but he’s not about to verbalize that.

 

 

“I never asked, what about your dad? What kind of dad is he?”

 

 

Zayn tenses at the question but tries to play it off and distracts himself with tossing a load of clothes into the washer while squeezing out a “He’s nice.” He feels off now, his chest is tight and his stomach is queasy, his fingers slipping while he tries detangle a bra from a shirt. He’s got a large lump in his throat and he would very much like for Louis to leave now.

 

 

“Hey, hey, mate.” Louis says and Zayn’s wrists are suddenly being encircled by slim fingers and he snaps his head to look at Louis who is now standing in front of him with a weird look on his face. “Zayn, chill, you’re shaking.” Zayn’s eyes widen when he looks down at his hands gripping the clothes and finds them indeed shaking, veins enhanced and his knuckles turning white. He quickly opens his fists, dropping the clothes to the floor before he looks at Louis again.

 

 

Louis is looking at him with confusion and a hint of concern, silently asking with his eyes why he’s acting so odd but Zayn doesn’t plan on answering that question. Instead he pulls his arms away and picks back up the clothes and continues with what he was doing, mumbling “I’m fine.” and the silence that follows is tense and unsure.

 

 

A few minutes later, a few silent minutes later Zayn turns around, expecting to find Louis long gone but instead finds him folding a pile of clothes neatly by color and fabric and it makes Zayn want to laugh and scream at the same time.

 

 

~

 

 

His mother returns to work and it’s back to the same routine and Zayn has to suck it up and disguise his disappointment with contentment when his mother walks out that door for another weeks disappearance and wipe away the girls tears while holding back his own.

 

 

It’s back to leaving his girls home alone throughout the night to go to work and provide them all they need and it’s back to stumbling home at 5:30 in the morning, his muscles throbbing and his body hollow, his hands struggling to get the key in the lock because his eyes keep slipping shut every few seconds.

 

 

It’s back to living in a constant haze, border lining reality and unconsciousness as he goes throughout his morning routine, putting up a fight with his insomnia and stressful thoughts just to get a few minutes rest before dragging himself to the girls rooms and waking them up with faux joy.

 

 

And school, he’s back to being insignificant as ever, keeping his head down, his arms as close to his sides as they can go so he can appear smaller and invisible, and trying every trick in the book to avoid running into any of the lads, specially Liam because after what happen over the weekend, Zayn thinks that was probably a sign that he should be more careful with how close he gets to Liam, to any of them. So therefore that means he has to shut them out completely.

 

 

It’s difficult considering Zayn shares a few classes with Niall, lunch with them all and gym with Liam. He has no idea how he will manage to shun them other then completely ignoring them if they try to speak to him but that’s incredibly rude and that’s the last thing Zayn wants to be. But he also wants to get the point across to them that whatever they want from him, _friendship_ if that’s it, it’s not going to happen. He’s so conflicted it makes his head hurt.

 

 

Niall’s not much of a pusher so when Zayn comes into class and immediately puts his head down, he’s not very surprised that all Niall does is pat him on the back and calls him a “ _Sleepyhead_.” Niall must have grown use to this by now. And if Zayn feels a little sad, a little empty without Niall making him laugh with his silly comments and incessant rambling, well then… well… he’s not. Really. He’s _not_.

 

 

He sits alone during lunch, in the back of the cafeteria where none of the lads can see him with his eyes blurry and his hand struggling to keep a steady line in his sketchbook.

 

 

By two weeks his injuries are healing pretty quickly. His hand, yeah, that’s going to take some time but it’s less swollen and it doesn’t hurt as bad as it had before, the bruises are also clearing up and the cut he had on his cheek is now a light scar.

 

 

“Hey, Zayn!”

 

 

He’s in gym now and they’re playing football but Zayn offered to keep tally of the goals and fouls or whatever it is and the coach only agreed because of Zayn’s injured hand. But Zayn really only took this job to be in the background, have no eyes on him and to not be noticed by anyone, specifically Liam but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen when Liam is waving over to him so frantically and Zayn can’t help but notice the bit of sweat shinning Liam’s chest from where his tank rides low. Zayn’s never been much of a sweat person, often finding it a slimy and gross but Liam’s biceps are glistening and Zayn almost begins to salivate.

 

 

“Zayn! Lookout!”

 

 

It’s only when it’s to late, when the ball has already come colliding with the side of his head that Zayn realizes Liam wasn’t saying hello, he was warning Zayn because some fucking twat had kicked the bloody ball to hard and it was heading straight for him.

 

 

The impact sends Zayn tumbling to the hard gym floor and now Zayn’s head is throbbing even fiercer and he’s seeing stars and could his day get anymore shitty?

 

 

In the distance he hears someone calling his name but it’s foggy and he can’t quite process who the voice belongs too until it gets closer and his focus is coming back into view just in time to find Liam hovering over him with wide eyes, trying to say something to him.

 

 

His hearing fades back in slowly, like raising the volume of a television. “Jesus, Michael, it’s a bloody game not the fucking Olympics!” He hears Liam shout at someone, Michael he guesses, before he looks back at Zayn and starts talking again, “Zayn? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

 

 

Zayn blinks a few times, still stunned before he quickly realizes he’s lying flat on the gym floor surrounded by 30 students and he flies up, almost knocking heads with Liam. “Whoa.” Liam calms, putting his hands on Zayn’s shoulders to stop him from rushing to fast off the floor from embarrassment. “Easy, Zayn, you shouldn’t move so fast, you’ll daze yourself.”

 

 

“Liam, take Zayn to the nurse will you, the kid looks paler then a sheet.” Liam nods quick and before Zayn can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s being pulled to his feet and out the gym and he lets it happen because he’s still shocked and his head feels like it’s been hit with a brick.

 

 

“Bloody hell, Zayn.” Liam sighs. “Are you accident prone or something? Do I need to keep an always eye on you?” he says it with a tease to his tone but some discreet seriousness but all in all, Zayn knows it’s meant as mostly a joke.

 

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He insist but Liam snorts in response.

 

 

They make it to the nurses’ office and Liam brings him to one of the beds and Zayn drops onto it thankfully because he feels insanely dizzy, he can’t tell left from right or down from up.

 

 

“Oi, now what happen here?” The nurse asks, showing up from practically nowhere.

 

 

“Some jerk kicked a ball at his head.”

 

 

The nurse frowns, “On purpose?”

 

 

“No but still.” Liam answers and then the nurses face returns to something more normal and she moves over to Zayn. The next few minutes are filled with questions and lights being shone in his eyes and then she gives him two pills for the headache he developed and insists that he go home for the day but he declines many times and she offers him the rest of class to lie down there and that he accepts.

 

 

And Liam decides he just has to stay too.

 

 

“I warned you the ball was coming.” Liam sounds annoyed, a bit upset and Zayn feels like such a burden, he’s not even sure why Liam stood. He just wants Liam to go so he can ball up and wallow in some self-pity for a little while.

 

 

“Sorry.” he mumbles, his eyes only coming up to look at Liam in the seat beside the bed to gauge his current mood. He looks just as upset as he sounds. And normally Zayn wouldn’t say anything but he doesn’t quite understand why Liam is mad at him, he didn’t _need_ to bring Zayn to the nurse or anything, so Zayn finds himself staring at his hands and asking, “Are you mad at me?”

 

 

That seems to catch Liam’s attention quick because all traces of anger disappear and he’s looking at Zayn in confusion. “What? No.” Liam looks more then a little surprised by the question and now Zayn feels a little stupid for even asking. “Why would you think that?”

 

 

Zayn shrugs, doesn’t want to talk about it further and doesn’t reply. It takes a while but then Liam is speaking again. “Are you mad at me?”

 

 

Now Zayn looks at him with drawn eyebrows. “No.”

 

 

Liam gives him a disbelieving look and says, “Well it seems like you are because you have been ignoring me and the boys for two weeks.”

 

 

Zayn flushes lightly and stares back at his hand picking at the gauze around his other wrist. He hadn’t expected Liam to bring that up, he had actually foolishly hoped that he hadn’t noticed Zayn being so distant with him and the lads. But like he said, foolishly.

 

 

He doesn’t respond mostly because he has no excuse and Liam doesn’t say anything either. They sit in a tense silence and Zayn is about ready to walk out the nurses office and maybe just wonder the halls for the rest of the period, anything to get out of this situation, but Zayn hadn’t gotten up quick enough and Liam’s mouth is moving again. “Can I ask you something?”

 

 

Zayn hesitates, his anxiety heightened at Liam’s request. He stutters out a, “S-sure.”

 

 

“Can I go over your house?”

 

 

Zayn nearly chokes on his own spit. “Why-why would you want to go to my house?”

 

 

“You went to my house, I want to go to yours now.” Liam shrugs, trying to appear as if it’s no big deal but Zayn knows he has ulterior motives, whatever they are.

 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Zayn finally answers after a long moment of heavy silence.

 

 

Liam frowns and Zayn can see the disappointment written all over his face. He refuses to let that influence his answer. “What about-” he pauses. “What about if it’s an emergency? Can I go then?”

 

 

Zayn’s confused and conflicted and he doesn’t know what kind of emergency would require Liam to go to _his_ house of all people but there’s something on Liam’s face, in his tone that is a bit desperate, not to just go to Zayn’s house but to have somewhere to go in general and Zayn slowly nods his head because Liam looks unsure and a little closed off. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

 

~

 

  
It takes another full week of radio silence for Liam to show up at the doorstep of his house and Zayn doesn’t even get a chance to wonder how he got his address because Liam is standing there black and blued and with a broken look on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to know you guess don't hate me would be nice :)


	12. chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, wow. Yes, I have returned for another chapter after my huuuge leap of absence. I have no excuses other then i am just a piece of dog shit. But I gave you lovely people a longer one and I threw in some nice Ziam for ya so I hope none of you hate me too much.
> 
> Also, any spelling/grammer/whatever mistakes are my own because rereading is for people who aren't lazy as fuck.

It’s Friday and he’s laid flat out on his stomach on the freshly vacuumed carpet helping Waliyha with her history homework when there’s a quiet knock on the door. He sighs and pushes up off the floor with weak arms. “Try those questions, Wali, I’ll be back to check them.” he says and Waliyha sighs but does as she was told.

 

 

When he gets to the door he opens it and almost looses his balance when he finds Liam standing on the other side. It takes him a moment to notice the bruises

 

“Liam.” he gasps and Liam gives him a hesitant smile. He wants to ask why he’s here, how he got here but Zayn’s eyes are too busy taking in the developing bruise on Liam’s jaw, the red marks on his neck, the split of his bottom lip. It sets off some protective switch in Zayn and he wants to pull Liam inside, wrap him up because it's freezing outside and he looks cold, and kiss away that awful broken look on his face.

 

 

“You said if there were any emergencies.” his voice is rough like he’s been shouting too much and his shoulders shrug in a sheepish manner.

 

 

“Shit.” Zayn mutters. He considers inviting the boy inside but after seeing Liam’s house, he’s sure Liam would be repulsed by his home and let him down in the softest way possible- because Liam is not capable of being mean- before leaving. And Zayn can’t watch him go like that. “What happen?”

 

 

“Can I come in?” Liam asks instead. Zayn hesitates and bites hard on the inside of his cheek. He squeezes the doorknob tight, almost painfully so, before stepping to the side and bowing his head in shame.

 

 

Now Zayn knows his house isn’t the absolute _worst_ but it’s not the nicest either. His mother has touched it up a bit lately with some extra money Zayn still can’t bloody figure out what came from. There’s new curtains on the windows, opened to wash the house with a bright light from the sun reflecting off the shallow sheet of snow outside. And there’s new throw pillows on the couch, ones that are not shabby and ripped but nicely stitched and stuffed. The house smells of warm cinnamon and apples because Zayn loves the Autumn scents even in the Winter, and there’s new dishes and clean rags in the kitchen. It’s clean too, Zayn never lets it get dirty, the only mess being the mess of homework and new toys on the floor surrounding Safaa and Waliyha.

 

 

But he still watches Liam’s feet walk deeper into the house and he’s waits for the gasp of disgust though it never comes and he looks up nervously to watch Liam look around. There’s a tiny smile on his face, one that has Zayn wincing because of the split on his lip. And he says, “I like it. My house is too big but this- it feels close and intimate.”

 

 

Zayn holds back a snort and opens his mouth to respond but there’s a squeaky feminine voice echoing the walls before he could get out a word. “Bubba, who is it?” Safaa calls and there’s a patter of tiny bare feet smacking the floor. Safaa pops out from around the corner, her long hair falling in front of her face when she comes to an abrupt stop in front of them. She draws in a long and loud, absolutely dramatic, breath before shouting with a shiny grin, “Waliyha! Liam’s here!”

 

 

“She remembers me.” he hears Liam say in a pleased voice and Zayn smiles a little.

 

 

“She liked you.” he shrugs. Liam glances back at him with a bright glint in his eye before looking down at Safaa.

 

 

“Hello again, Safaa.”

 

 

Safaa rocks back and forth on her heels and grins. “Hi Liam!” but then her grin is shrinking into a tight frown and having no sort of filter she asks, “What happen to your face? Did you get in a fight? Mum says violence is never the answer. Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts. If it does then I can help you make cupcakes because cupcakes make everyone feel better.”

 

 

Liam chuckles. “Cupcakes?” he asks with exaggerated excitement that has Zayn rolling his eyes _fondly_. “I do love cupcakes. Why don’t you show me the way to the kitchen and we can whip some up?”

 

 

Safaa’s face lights up, her eyes twinkling as she nods her head and circles her small fingers around Liam’s wrist to tug him in the direction of the kitchen. Liam glances back at him with a smile, shrugs and follows.

 

 

Zayn wants to argue, to tell Safaa that Liam and him need to talk because he needs to figure out exactly why Liam’s all bruised up but he keeps his mouth closed and watches them go with the tiniest bit of satisfaction seeing them get on so well. Waliyha comes from around the corner just in time to watch them go too.

 

 

“Liam?” She questions surprised. “What’s he doing here?”

 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

 

“How does he know where we live?”

 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

 

“Is something wrong?’

 

 

“I don’t know.” They both say in unison and Zayn reaches over to tug on a stray strain from Waliyha’s high bun.

 

 

“Smartarse.” He tisks.

 

 

“Coin jar!”

 

 

Zayn rolls his eyes. “One; we don’t own a coin jar.” he reminds. “And B; aren’t you suppose to be doing your history homework?”

 

 

Waliyha groans and leans on her other foot with a hand placed on her hip. “Aren’t you suppose to be helping me with my history homework?”

 

 

Zayn clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I have important matters to attend to so you’re just going to have to wing it and I’ll check it over tonight.”

 

 

Waliyha smiles wickedly at him. “If by attending matters you mean attending Liam then I say right on big bro.”

 

 

Waliyha is scampering off before he can respond and Zayn snorts and follows her.

 

 

  
~

 

 

  
The scent of chocolate and butter fill the house in a warm kind of way. Liam is still in the kitchen with Safaa and Zayn can hear the clanking of dishes and pots and Safaa’s boss lady voice telling Liam what to do and how to do it. Safaa can be quite the control freak sometimes and Zayn almost feels bad for letting Liam get himself dragged into this situation without so much as a warning.

 

 

But it’s nice, to say the least, listening to Liam and Safaa chatter on about random topics while they bake and Zayn and Waliyha sprawl out on the living room floor and quiz each other with homework related questions. Zayn feels oddly domestic, like this. Like this is his and Liam’s family, like after the baking is done and the schoolwork is completed, they’ll all sit on the floor with the television playing and eat their cupcakes and talk. And then they’ll send the girls off to bed and Liam would move to the couch and Zayn would cuddle up beside him and they’ll kiss lazily with the glow from the television the only light illuminating the room. Like he’ll wake up with Liam beside him in their own bed in their own room.

 

 

And then there’s an especially loud bang and Zayn comes out of his stupid petty fantasy, remembers that's not the kind of life he will have- _can_  have, and feels incredibly stupid.

 

 

Liam pokes his head out with a sheepish grin and says, “Sorry.” before disappearing again and Zayn hates how endearing he finds it.

 

 

~

 

 

The cupcakes are a little dry and the frosting doesn’t smooth so neatly over the top but it’s still pretty good and Zayn eats two.

 

 

“I’m not much of a baker.” Liam mentions to him. Their plopped on the couch (a safe arms length distance between them because Zayn feels like it’s necessary) and Waliyha and Safaa are sat on the floor, their legs spread in front of them and their feet swinging side to side. They're talking about some movie coming out and how Waliyha is going to see it with this boy from school and Zayn will definitely address that later.

 

 

“They’re good.”

 

 

“Because of Safaa, she’s a baking prodigy.”

 

 

Zayn feels a small sense of pride for his little sister but he doesn’t voice that, just smiles at her as he speaks quietly. “Nah, she’s just a bit of a control freak.”

 

 

“A bit? She nearly snapped my hand for cracking the egg _wrong_.” Zayn chuckles and turns to glance at Liam only to find the boy a closer then he was five minutes ago. Like, only a few inches away now and how Zayn hadn’t noticed before, he does not know. But from this distance he’s harshly reminded of Liam’s state and his cluelessness as to why the boys even here.

 

 

He looks away quickly and clears his throat. “Um, girls, why don’t you uh, get ready for bed.”

 

 

Both his sisters heads snap up to look at him.

 

 

“It’s only 8!” Waliyha whines, lolling her head to the side and looking at him with a pout. As if he’d budge. His eyes do widen at the time though, he hadn’t realized it was so late, he has to be at the shelter in an hour.

 

 

“So?” he questions challenging, a raised eyebrow and a tone that holds no room for arguing or negotiating.

 

 

And because they both no better than to argue him, Waliyha huffs and pushes off the floor, reaching a hand out to pull Safaa up.

 

 

“Can we at least watch TV?”

 

 

Zayn scrunches his nose, debating, before he decides, yeah it’s the weekend, he’s not _that_ mean. “Yes.”

 

 

“You’re gonna tuck me in, right, bubba?” Safaa asks, standing with fiddling hands and a hopeful look. Zayn smiles softly and nods.

 

 

“Course, love, just give me a few minutes.”

 

 

Safaa smiles, satisfied, and skips off with Waliyha trailing behind grumbling about unfairness and _stupid big brothers_.

 

 

 

When they’re gone he pushes away until his back rests against the arm of the couch, his knees bent on the couch in an effort to create as much space and obstacles between himself and Liam.

 

 

Liam still sits in the center facing him with a lost look. “Is you’re mum or dad not here? I mean, I haven’t like, seen them or anything but-” he cuts off, turning his gaze back to Zayn with confused eyes.

 

 

Zayn looks away and shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner. “Mums at work, she doesn’t get out until later tonight.” he lies quickly, avoiding mention of his father because he feels he wont be able to lie quite so smoothly about him.

 

 

Liam stares at him for a few moments with a look that unsettles something in Zayn’s stomach when he glances at him but then he’s nodding, accepting the answer, and saying, “Okay.”

 

 

“Okay.” Zayn repeats clipped for whatever reason, he’s not sure but he tries to keep his defensiveness to a minimum.

 

 

It’s silent for a couple beats, just this heavy silence with a lot of brief staring and a ton of questions that Zayn just wants to burst out with but he’s not sure how to word them. He just doesn’t want to sound invasive and- and _worried_.

 

 

Honestly, though, he is worried. He’s like, really worried because Liam’s here all banged up and hasn’t even offered an explanation and Zayn just really wants to know who the fuck did that to him and why but then again he doesn’t want to know because he can’t worry about Liam, he can’t care about Liam and a huge part of him wishes Liam hadn’t even showed up. Zayn has enough shit to stress about, and yes, he is aware of how selfish and fucked up that sounds.

 

 

But he’s here and Zayn just can't _not_ ask now, it’s killing him. “What-why are you-” he pauses, swallows. “What happen?”

 

 

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have just shown up like this.” Liam answers sheepishly.

 

 

“It’s okay, Liam.” Zayn reassures though it’s most definitely not okay. Liam shouldn’t have just shown up here, he shouldn’t have come to Zayn for god knows what reason because Zayn has enough problems (he's being so selfish again and he hates himself a lot for it). But Liam is here and there’s no reason to make him feel bad about it (And Zayn may be a little more concerned then he’s letting on). “You can tell me.” he says before swallowing and rushing to add, “I mean, if you want. You don’t have too.” because he doesn’t want Liam to feel obligated to tell him. It’s a choice, Liam has a choice.

 

 

“Well I kind of owe it to you now.” Liam says with a small tight smile and Zayn instantly shakes his head.

 

 

“No, just because you’re here doesn’t mean you owe it to me, Liam. We can completely forget about it if you want. It’s you’re choice.” He wants Liam to be completely sure if he wants to tell him. He sure hates when he’s forced to open up, he doesn’t want Liam to feel forced as well.

Liam stares at him for a long moment, successfully making Zayn second guess his response and move to stare at his lap instead of Liam, wondering what he had said wrong.

“Thanks.” Liam suddenly says. Zayn looks back up and finds Liam smiling a little and he’s not quite sure what’s going on.

 

 

“Um... you're welcome?” he answers, perplexed.

 

 

“That’s why I came here, to be quite honest. Because I needed to leave my house but Louis would ask too many questions and Harry would coddle me too much and Niall is way too chill about everything. I just needed an even ground and some time to think.”

 

 

Zayn doesn’t let himself think about Liam’s answer too much because then he’d probably feel a little too special, and swallows. “And did you get to think?”

 

 

Liam doesn’t even pause to mull it over. He just nods and says, “I did and I think I want to tell you.”

 

 

Zayn nods and sits a little straighter to show that Liam has his full attention. “Okay.”

 

 

Liam pauses for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and Zayn gives him the time he needs. “I got home, yeah?” he starts. “And my mom and dad were arguing, like they have been everyday since he came back, so I thought nothing of it, right? And I go to the kitchen to make myself something to eat without them noticing I was even home but then I hear my mum scream so I run to the living room and my dad, he’s got her pinned to the wall by her throat-” Zayn smothers his gasp but his eyes widen against his will. Liam isn’t looking at him, his eyes focused on his twiddling fingers, and his voice wavers a bit as he speaks.

 

 

“So I jumped in of course, trying to pull him off of her and when I finally did he turned on me as well and we got in a bit of a fight, as you can tell.” he laughs dryly and when he finally meets Zayn’s eye he looks lost. Like his whole life has been ripped from underneath him and he doesn’t know where to go and Zayn supposes that’s understandable. “My mum called the police and they broke us up and arrested him. They were going to arrest me too until my mum explained what happened.”

 

 

Liam stops and brings his eyes back to his hands and Zayn takes a moment to process. He swallows and tries to ignore the tight feeling in his chest and the urge to take Liam’s hand or pull him into a hug because he _can't_. “Where’s your mother now?” Zayn asks a bit hesitantly. He’s not sure if he’s suppose to be asking questions, if Liam just wants him to listen and not talk.

 

 

“I dropped her off at my aunts home, she’s gonna stay there for a little while, says she can’t be home right now.”

 

 

“What about you?”

 

 

Liam shrugs and scratches at the stubble on his jaw. His eyes flicker to Zayn, to his lap and back. “My aunt lives too far for me to stay there since, you know, school and all so I’m staying home. I just. I couldn’t be there right now though.” Zayn nods in understanding. He looks at Liam, notices how his head is lowered, his hands fidget and from what he can make out he’s got a deep frown on his lips that just pulls down the rest of his face and makes him look heartbreakingly sad. And Zayn just wants to kiss him and try to make him feel good again.

 

 

So Zayn stops being selfish for once, he stops worrying about himself and his problems and how close it is to 9 and how he’s going to miss the bus and how he still needs to change into his work gear. He just stops being so bloody self absorbed and considers someone else and their feelings for once and moves down the couch so he’s sitting closer to Liam, facing him with one leg off the couch and the other bent and overlapping Liam’s so he can be as close as appropriately possible. Liam looks up with a confused arch of his brow and Zayn swallows the moments hesitation and grabs Liam by the shoulders to pull him into a hug because he really looks like he fucking needs one right now.

 

 

He hears the sound of surprise Liam makes and the way he tenses for a second, as if he’s stunned Zayn is actually initiating physical contact which he’d be justified to be, before he snaps out of it and responds quickly, moving his own arms around Zayn to return the hug. His arms wound tight around Zayn’s middle and he hugs Zayn like this is all he needs in this moment, like all he needs is some comfort and the reassuring words that it’s going to be okay.

 

 

He doesn’t miss the sniffle in his neck. “I was n-never that close to him but... he's my father and I. I hit him and I wish I didn’t feel so b-bad about it.”

 

 

Zayn frowns and shakes his head, his cheek rubbing against the top of Liam’s head, against his hair that feels so soft and ticklish on his skin. “You were protecting your mum, Li, you did the right thing.” he says and he hates how useless he feels right now. He doesn’t know how to make Liam feel better, he doesn’t know what to say or what to do and it makes him feel pretty shitty because all he wants to do is see Liam smile again but he can’t do anything.

 

 

“I know.” Liam mumbles but he still sounds defeated.

 

 

Zayn’s eyes catch the time on the clock hanging on the wall, 9:12pm, it reads and he mutters a curse. He pulls away, about to tell Liam that he has to leave but that he can stay the night if he wants, until he catches sight of Liam’s face. His eyes are a bit puffy and he’s got thin tear streaks running down his cheeks and he looks destroyed right now and he curses up a storm in his head because there is no way Zayn can go to work now.

 

 

He brings a hand to the back of Liam’s neck to scratch lightly at the small hairs there, watches as Liam’s eyes close, leaning into the touch and sighing at the comfort. Or Zayn hopes it’s comforting as he forces a soft smile and says, “Well you can stay here the night, if you want. We can watch movies and get some pizza or you can just go to sleep, you must be tired.”

 

 

Liam’s eyes open and he shakes his head. “Movies.” he decides. “Movies and food sound great. But you have to stay awake this time.” he adds with tease.

 

 

Zayn rolls his eyes with amusement and promises, “I will.”

 

 

Zayn refuses to blush at Liam’s smile and removes his hand. He stands to make his way the shelf of movies they have beside the television when his phone starts blaring out a smooth beat, snapping fingers and Drakes voice coming in singing about regret and shots. He changes his course and plucks his phone from the end of the couch.

 

 

_Work_ it reads and he bites down on his lip, staring at the bold letters as he debates answering or not. In the end he mutes it and clicks off the screen and sets it down on the coffee table. Liam watches the action with a curious eye but Zayn just shrugs and says, “Lets pick some movies, yeah?”

 

 

Liam’s smile returns but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Zayn can tell it’s bothering Liam that he hadn’t answered his phone. But Zayn ignores it and moves to settle in front of the movie shelf.

 

 

“Alright, we got some Angelina Jolie,” Zayn starts, “Some Will Smith, X-men, Disney, Tyler Perry-”

 

 

“What do you have from Will Smith?” Liam cuts him off, not rudely, just curious and Zayn starts pulling out the DVDs in the Will Smith section because Safaa’s not only a control freak, she’s also a bit anal about categories and organization.

 

 

He’s got a pretty decent sized stack that includes all the seasons of _Fresh Prince_ in his arms (because when his aunt moved away, she left her hefty collection of movies to them and she had an odd obsession with the series) and he walks to where Liam’s sitting on the couch to show him the collection. They search through the stack and Liam’s eyes light up when he sees _Hancock_. He grins a bit shyly and picks up the movies, muttering, “My favorite Will Smith movie.” And Zayn can’t help but grin and find Liam’s face absolutely adorable. But hell would have to have frozen over for him to admit that out loud.

 

 

Instead, he tells Liam to order the pizza and he’ll set the movie up. Liam pulls out his phone and Zayn moves to the tv to hook everything up and start the movie. Once he’s got the movie at the main screen, he pushes up from the floor and moves to the hallway closet to pull out a bunch of puffy blankets and bring them to the living room. When he steps into the living room he hears Liam speaking into the phone, ordering a large cheese pizza and a soda.

 

 

Before hanging up Liam’s tone turns serious and he says, “Please make sure it’s just cheese too , no ham or anything. Thank you.” And then he hangs up and Zayn’s chest tightens when he realizes why Liam is so adamant that the pizza be strictly cheese and nothing else.

 

 

He remembered.

 

 

He bloody remembered and Zayn’s cheeks flush and a strong wave of appreciation and something dangerously close to _love_ , spreads from the center of his chest to the tips of his toes and fingers. The intensity kind of startles him, makes his head feel a little cloudy, and he kind of freezes in place because Liam is just so wonderful and he finds enough importance in Zayn’s religion to make sacrifices for him. Even if it’s just about pizza toppings. No ones ever really considered him like that.

 

 

Liam turns and looks at him curiously and Zayn quickly snaps out of it, registering that he probably looks like a bloody idiot standing there staring like that. He clears his throat and offers a small smile that has Liam returning his own.

 

 

“What’s with all the blankets?” Liam asks, his eyebrow raising

 

 

Zayn flushes lightly and says a bit shyly, “It’s not a movie night without a shit ton of comfortable blankets.”

 

 

Liam grins and nods. “Makes sense.”

 

 

Zayn rolls his eyes, a smile on his lips, and walks to the couch, pulling out the back cushions so there’s more room and grabbing the first blanket to throw over the couch. He continues with all the other quilts, covering up the whole couch and making it as comfortable and warm as possible. He takes the smaller throw pillows and sets them up too so they’ll have something to lean against and when he’s done he takes a step back to take in his work, debate on whether it needs any changes or extras.

 

 

He decides the practically _cocoon_ of blankets looks good enough to lay comfortable in but then it registers that he’s going to be sharing this couch with Liam and his face almost falls. The couch isn’t tiny, they wont be on top of each other but it’s still a close fit and he panics a little at the thought that Liam might think this is romantic or something and get weirded out. So Zayn tries to ignore the way his skin feels too hot and clears his throat.

 

 

“I’m gonna check on the girls.” he announces and then he’s leaving the room without so much as a glance towards Liam.

 

 

He walks into Safaa’s room first, finding the girl sitting up in bed with the lights off and some cartoon playing on her television. He surprises her by sitting at the edge of the bed beside her, his thighs throbbing and his ankles pulsing, the relief of finally sitting down wonderful.

 

 

“Did Liam leave?” Safaa asks, turning away from her trance on the telly and looking at him with what Zayn can only describe as disappointment. He sighs to himself, feeling a little worried that Safaa’s growing too attached to Liam already. He doesn’t want her to feel hurt when she doesn’t see him again, when he finally gets the hint and backs off.

 

 

“No, he’s still here, babe. He’s gonna stay the night, hope that’s okay with you?” He knows Safaa likes Liam, likes him a lot, actually, but it’s still his job to make sure his sister isn’t uncomfortable with another man staying over their house.

 

 

Safaa’s face lights up and she reaches over to grab Zayn’s hand. “Of course not! So he’s gonna sleep here? And wake up here? And eat breakfast with us?”

 

 

Zayn swallows, feeling a little nervous about that. “Yes.”

 

 

“And he’ll make French toast with me, Zayn?” she asks, hopeful and excited.

 

 

“If you ask him, maybe.”

 

 

Safaa nods and quickly starts climbing out of bed, using Zayn as leverage and he can’t help but laugh at her anxiousness as he quickly grabs onto her arm to stop her.

 

 

“Woah, where do you think your going?”

 

 

Safaa looks up at him incredulously. “To ask Liam to make French toast with me, duh.” she tells him with annoyance and Zayn raises his eyebrows.

 

 

“Duh?” he repeats. “Did you just _duh_ me?”

 

 

Safaa’s eyes widen as she realizes what she did and she quickly shakes her head, her hair moving wildly from the force. “No, bubba, I didn’t.”

 

 

Zayn smirks, lifting his hands slowly. “I think you did.”

 

 

Safaa eyes his hands nervously, drawing out, “Bubba-” but Zayn cuts her off, his hands immediately flying to her sides and his fingers wiggling around the spot he knows is ticklish. Safaa squeals, laughter pouring out of her mouth and she trashes around and tries to escape him but Zayn is quick and dodges her swinging arms and kicking legs.

 

 

“B-bubba! Sto-stop!” She stutters, her eyes squeezes shut and her high pitched laughter loud in his ears. “Zaa- _aayn_!”

 

 

Finally Zayn relents, laughing, himself, and running a hand through Safaa’s hair. She’s pouting but he can see the twitch of a smile. “Next time you _duh_ me, I wont show any mercy.” he teases, leaning over to drop a kiss on her forehead before standing up from the bed, his back tight and cracking. “Telly off at 10, Saf. Goodnight.”

 

 

Safaa groans and drops back onto her pillows but nods her head. “Goodnight.”

 

 

After he leaves her room, he gives himself no time to think about Liam and quickly crosses into Waliyha’s room, finding the girls sitting at the top of her bed with a magazine in her lap and some reality tv show playing on her tv. She looks up when he enters the room and eyes him.

 

 

“You know I’m not one for tickles.” she says and Zayn snorts as he drops onto her bed.

 

 

“Yes, you’re too old for tickles, I remember.”

 

 

Waliyha rolls her eyes and lunges a leg out to kick him in the side but Zayn grabs hold of her skinny ankle last second and circles it with his fingers. “Liam’s staying the night, is that okay?”

 

 

Waliyha shrugs as if she doesn’t care but there’s a small smirk on her lips as she looks over at him. “Mum said no boys in the rooms.”

 

 

Zayn feels himself blush and he pinches the skin of her foot. “He’s sleeping on the couch, you prick.”

 

 

Waliyha laughs and swats at him with the magazine. “Whatever. Go watch movies with your little boyfriend and I want some of that pizza.”

 

 

Zayn furrows his eyebrows and sits up. “Were you eavesdropping?”

 

 

Waliyha at least has the decency to look sheepish but she has this evil little glint in her eyes as she shrugs. “My doors open and you’ve got a cute boy over, what do you expect.”

 

 

Zayn tugs on her hair and quickly gets off the bed when she tries to reach for his own. He walks to the door, grabbing the doorknob with plans of shutting the door. “No more eavesdropping or you can’t go to the movies with that boy. Whom by the way, I will be meeting prior.”

 

 

Waliyha’s mouth falls open and Zayn winks before quickly shutting the door behind him.

 

 

Zayn takes a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to relax before he rolls his shoulders and heads to the living room. When he gets there, the smell of grease and cheese invade his nose and he finds Liam sat criss cross on the couch, his shoes kicked off, and a large pizza box sitting open on the coffee table. He has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread his face at the sight of Liam still here, but the way his stomach tickles and his breathing stutters, he can’t do much to help that.

 

 

He moves closer till he’s by the couch and takes a seat across Liam, a little hesitant because he’s till pretty nervous but it’s getting easier. He leans over once he’s got his legs bent comfortably and takes a slice.

 

 

“The pizza came while you were with your sisters so I took the liberty of answering the door and paying for it.” Liam says without an apology in his tone. He stretches for a can of soda that Zayn is just now noticing.

 

 

Zayn swallows his bite and frowns. “You didn’t have to pay for it.” he says though he’s more then grateful Liam did because Zayn doesn’t have extra money to spare like that.

 

 

“I know.” Liam answers around a mouth full of pizza. Zayn huffs a small, breathy laugh at the way Liam’s cheeks pudge out from the food. It looks cute. Liam looks cute. Liam _is_ cute. Oh lord.

 

 

It’s gets silent after that, comfortably so. Zayn’s not sure what Liam’s thinking about but all he can think about is the fact that Liam remembered. He feels like he should commend Liam on that, thank him for finding Zayn relevant enough to consider. He also feels a little guilty because Liam might of wanted some extra toppings but he tries not to dwell on that so he wont feel shitty.

 

 

Zayn takes a sip of his soda and drops his crust in the pizza box, grabbing another slice. He eyes it before looking at Liam chomping down on his third, and smiles. “Thanks for remembering.” he finds himself saying, quietly.

 

 

Liam looks up, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “Remembering what?” he asks after he swallowed his bite.

 

 

Zayn looks down at his lap a bit shyly, his cheeks coloring embarrassingly. “My religion.” he answers. “How I can’t have all those extra toppings on my pizza. Just. Thanks for remembering.”

 

 

He peals his eyes away from his lap to gauge Liam’s reaction and finds a discoloration on Liam’s cheeks as well, and a genuine smile too. “Of course I remembered. What kind of friend would I be if I forgot something so important.”

 

 

Zayn’s breathing stutters a little at the word. A _friend_. But before he can start denying it to himself he thinks, yeah, that is kind of something a friend would remember. And what they’re doing right now, it is something friends do. So yeah, maybe they are friends and maybe it is okay because Liam is nice and he’s considerate and he seems to actually care about Zayn to a certain degree. Maybe they can be friends, not close friends but close enough where Zayn doesn’t think he’s as alone as he was before.

 

 

“A shitty one.” He finds himself saying, teasingly, a smirk and a laugh behind the answer. Liam laughs and chucks a piece of cheese at him and this feels okay. _He_ feels okay.

 

  
~

 

  
After they finished they’re pizza, Zayn cleaned up and Liam started the movie. When Zayn came back from the kitchen he came back to Liam laying back on the couch, his head rested on one of the pillows and joggers hanging low on his hips to expose a sliver of skin that Zayn wants to taste. But he draws his eyes away from that and focuses more on if he’s suppose to lay beside Liam or find a spot on the floor or something. He doesn’t get much time to wonder though because Liam is looking at him expectantly and patting the spot beside him as if he can tell Zayn was waiting for conformation.

 

 

So Zayn swallows down the nervousness and wills his pulse to slow the fuck down as he gets closer to the couch. Liam scoots a little over to give Zayn more space to settle into, and he does, shyly and a little tense and maybe even a little nauseous. He pulls a spare blanket over them while he’s at it and once he’s laying down, he turns on his side just a little bit so he’s facing the tv better and tries not to focus on the way the back of his shoulder touches Liam's arm.

 

 

And for a few minutes it’s difficult, being so close to Liam, feeling his legs brushing his once and a while, feeling it when he moves, when he adjust his position so he’s a little more on his side too. It’s difficult but it gets easier after a few minutes and he begins to really relax. That is until Liam gets more comfortable himself and settles an arm around Zayn’s waist. The move seems hesitant but also sure somehow and when Zayn doesn’t complain, doesn’t do much of anything but tense a little from the surprise, the arm rests more securely.

 

 

Zayn tries to focus on the movie but from this close he can smell Liam-cologne and something just so  _boy_ -and the feel of Liam’s legs slowly making their way to tangle with Zayn’s, it makes it really fucking difficult to focus on anything else. He realizes they’re cuddling and that this is probably a bad idea but Liam’s had a rough day and Zayn can forget self-preservation for one night, for Liam. Even if it hurts Zayn in the long run.

 

 

And fuck if it doesn’t feel nice.

 

 

Zayn turns to look up at Liam after a little while, just because he felt the urge, and frowns at the bruise under his eye.

 

 

“I should of got you ice to put on your eye.” Zayn sighs out and Liam’s eyes move from the tv to meet his.

 

 

“Why, does it look that bad?” he asks, though he doesn’t seem that concerned.

 

 

Zayn shakes his head as a reaction, then nods a little, then tilts his head and eyes it a little more before he decides that, no, it doesn’t look _that_ bad but it doesn’t look that nice either. “No but there’s still a bruise.”

 

 

Liam shrugs a shoulder like it doesn’t matter and says, “Eh, I’ll be fine.”

 

 

"Are you sure? Because I can still get you some ice." he asks, just to be sure. But Liam shakes his head and tightens his arm around him.

 

 

"No, stay here, 'm sure." 

 

 

Zayn wants to argue but heart is thumping in his ears and his hands feel sweaty at the way Liam's looking at him so he has to turn away quickly before Liam notices the way his cheeks are turning pink.

 

 

He spends the rest of the movie pointedly avoiding looking at Liam and trying not to lean into him every time he gets closer. And Zayn has a lot of self-control but even he has his breaking point and halfway through _Hancock_ , he’s leaning back into Liam’s chest and enjoying the feel of Liam’s breath tickling down his neck.

 

 

And he’s out like a light before the end of the movie. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam Liam Liam, making those advances boy. I see you. 
> 
> No but really guys, this was a big step for Zayn, accepting Liam as a friend and all. Took long enough, am I right? But hey, gotta make this realistic enough. And now we wait for the "something more" hehehehehe.
> 
> Anyway, lemme know what you think and you are more than welcome to harass me on tumblr to get my ass to update faster. Morequiffmalik.tumblr.com, message me, follow me, LOVE ME.
> 
> You're also more than welcome to give me ideas, or guess what might happen next, or anything like that. I love to hear what you guys think and no lie, it makes me want to update faster.


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